


Beam Me Up, Danno!

by Goneahead



Series: Beam Me Up, Danno! [1]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010), Star Trek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Danny Whump, Hawaii Five-Oh in Space!, Steve Whump, bunk sharing, diplomatic javelining, whumptober2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26817013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goneahead/pseuds/Goneahead
Summary: When Danny Williams signed up for Starfleet, he was expecting to work on a space station. Unfortunately, he made the mistake of being heroic on Rigel VIIandsaving Captain Pike--and Captain Pike recommended Danny to be the next First Officer on the USS Enterprise.The USS Enterprise, captained by McGarrett, who had already gone through three First Officers.Danny didn’t understand why he was being punished for saving his captain’s life.Written for Whumptober 2020.
Series: Beam Me Up, Danno! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990474
Comments: 92
Kudos: 108
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	1. Shooting Is Not Negotiating

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Whomptober 2020 and woefully unbetaed. Yes, I have written H50 in Space, again. Sorry not sorry :)

~~+~~

When Danny Williams signed up for Starfleet, he was expecting to work on a space station. His mom ran a space station, and both of his uncles were assigned to space stations. His oldest sister got sent to a research facility, but it was on an icy rock in the middle of nowhere, so, really, a naturally-made space station.

Then the guidance counselor called him in to talk about his aptitude scores. Danny took one look at her bright happy smile, and immediately thought ‘Oh shit.’

“Don’t worry, it’s good news! You’re officer material!”

~~+~~

Danny hated San Francisco. Yes, he was raised on a space station, and no, he didn’t hate the open sky, thank you very much. The problem was the city was _wet._

Danny like evolution; evolution worked. Humans crawled onto land millions of years ago, leaving their fishy ancestors behind, and then humans invented useful stuff like biospheres and space stations and sonic showers. There was absolutely no reason for any sane human to be wet in the twenty-third century.

At least there was one dry place, the San Francisco Underground Concourse, known affectionately as S-FUC. S-FUC had started as a grandiose urban renewal project for the old transportation tunnels and then devolved, as these things usually did, into a cheap bar district. It was in S-FUC, playing wingman to B’nkokua, his Aenar roommate, that Danny met Rachel. 

Rachel was doubling in Xenobiology and Astrophysics, gunning for a science officer post on one of the new Constitution-class starships. And because Danny was young and stupid and in love, and because bonded cadets were assigned together, he married her. They served on the USS New Jersey, and then on the USS Honolulu, and then Rachel decided she didn’t want to serve with him anymore. Which meant Danny could ask to be assigned to a space station.

Unfortunately, he made the mistake of being heroic on Rigel VII _and_ saving Captain Pike--and Captain Pike recommended Danny to be the next First Officer on the USS Enterprise.

The USS Enterprise, captained by McGarrett, who had already gone through three First Officers.

Danny didn’t understand why he was being punished for saving his captain’s life.

~~+~~  
**1\. Jekuul IV (Prompt 10: They look so pretty when they bleed)**

“I was negotiating.” Captain McGarrett was curled on his side, and Danny was most definitely not thinking about the large amount of blood soaking into the green sand of the temple courtyard.

“No, you were shooting; shooting is not negotiating.” He’d grabbed a strip of guylah cloth from the hands of a nearby statue, was now pressing it against the javelin wound in McGarrett’s side, in a rather futile attempt to prevent further blood loss. “And now you are bleeding, which, in case you were wondering, is also _not_ negotiating.”

Their communicators whistled, and Danny fumbled his open with one hand.

“Last container is aboard.” Chin advised, “We’re re-calibrating the transporter, and then we can beam you up.”

“Well you better re-calibrate faster.” The guylah cloth was turning black from blood. “The captain’s been ‘diplomatically javelined’.”

McGarrett’s breathing changed; too shallow, too fast. “It...worked...didn’t...it...Number...One?”

Danny rolled his eyes, but before he could answer, he felt the icy tingle of the transporter beam.

~~+~~  
**2\. Bgztl (Prompt 1: Let’s Hang Out Sometime)**

Danny’s heart sank when he saw the twisted ruins of the catwalk. The damn rebels had thought of _everything_. He leaned against the rock wall, grunting at the twin flares of pain from broken ribs and a broken collarbone. He _had_ to get to the security array--

There was an overhead power cable running to the array, lashed to what looked like a DL3 conduit. DL3 was thin, but strong; stronger even than polycarbon. Probably insurance against any storms whipping through the canyon.

He edged forward to the crumbling lip of rock, braced himself--and jumped. He grabbed the conduit, and--oh shit, fuck! Fuuuuck! He hung there, trying to breathe through the blazing shards of pain.

Danny forced his right hand to let go, forced himself to stretch out as far as he could, then grabbed for the conduit again. It hurt, oh fuckin’ son of bitch, it _hurt._ He did it again, and then again, trying not to think of the huge chasm of fucking rock below, and how fucking long the distance to the array had to be.

Everything began to swim, and no amount of blinking cleared his vision. And then--he reached to grab conduit and his fingers hit the protective plating of the array. Danny fumbled, fingers trying to find--there! The maintenance ladder!

He gritted his teeth, grabbed the closest rung with one hand, and hauled himself over, flailing for a moment before a boot hooked on a rung. He dragged himself up one rung, then two, and through a red haze of agony, felt around for the main maintenance hatch. He jerked it open. The movement made something crunch in his shoulder, followed by a fiery shard of pain. Now he just had to--fuck it.

Danny’s fingers had landed on the main power crystal. He closed his hand around it and yanked. It came free, and he dropped it, reached for his communicator.

“Security array has been disabled. Get the Ambassador out of there.”

He pulled himself up the last two rungs, and then half-fell, half-sprawled across the top baffling plates. His entire side felt like liquid fire, and something wet and sticky was running down his chest.

“The Ambassador and her party are safely aboard.” Chin’s voice came through the communicator, a note of disbelief behind his usual professionalism. “She wants to know what took so long.”

~~+~~  
**3\. Graxos II (Prompt 4: Running Out of Time)**

Danny trudged back to the shuttle, irritated. If he’d been working on a space station, he wouldn’t be hot and thirsty _and_ his thumb wouldn’t be throbbing.

Captain McGarrett was loading samples into one of the outside compartments of the shuttle. “I thought you were collecting samples.”

“I was collecting samples, but then,” He held up his left hand, “I got jabbed by one of those Jamal-something-or-other trees.”

“Let me guess this straight.” McGarrett smirked at him. “You stopped because you cut yourself--on a plant?”

“You may not realize this, but StarFleet actually does have xenobotanists, and those xenobotanists file reports, and StarFleet regulations say we are supposed to read those reports before we go traipsing across a planet.”

McGarrett’s smirk widened, “Traipsing?”

“Yes, traipsing, because--” Danny stopped, checked the countdown. “Forget it, I only have seven minutes left.” He entered the shuttle, walked over to the small compartment that held the field kit. 

Which wasn’t there. 

Danny stared at the empty cabinet, because there was supposed to be a field med kit right there, and in that kit was supposed to be an anti-venom hypospray. Which he was supposed to take within twenty minutes of being stuck by the thorn of the Jamal-whatever tree. 

He now had--five minutes.

Maybe the emergency locker? He hoped so because his thumb--actually his whole left hand now--throbbed like a son of a bitch, He opened it. 

Emergency shelter, emergency food, emergency water.

No med kit.

Four minutes.

Maybe Captain-I-would-rather-eat-verraine-worms-then-use-a-field-dressing-McGarrett was using it? 

Walking to the door of the shuttle was...interesting. The floor kept doing an odd pitch-roll and Danny was pretty sure the shuttle walls shouldn’t be vibrant pinks and purples.

He reached the door, and since standing suddenly seemed like a very exhausting thing to do, he leaned against the doorframe. “Captain?”

McGarrett grunted, loading the container of rocks--and seriously, why did Science Officer Jenna always request rocks?

“Yes?” McGarrett swung another container in.

it occured to Danny he had been about to ask a question. An important question about… something. 

Oh, yeah, the med kit.

“Officer Williams?” McGarrett was giving him a funny look.

“Field med kit?” Danny sighed, because McGarrett was still looking at him funny instead of answering, which really, was so _not_ helpful. Unlike the door frame. He patted the door frame, because it was being a very good doorframe. “Anti-venom?” 

Wait, was he asking the Captain--or the door frame? It seemed like a very important distinction, but then the world kind of all tilted sideways--and everything went black.

~~+~~  
**4\. Graxos II (Prompt 7: I’ve Got You/Support/Carrying)**

Danny gave a small gasp, then started breathing again. Steve’s shoulders slumped with relief, and he put the hypospray down, glanced at the medical tricorder.

  


Provide Oxygen (Vulcan/Human/Vulcan & Human Sub-Species)  
Raise Inferior Distal End (Bipedal)  
Hydrate Intravenously (Carbon Life Form)  
Iodine Bath (All Jazuur Lifeforms)  
Seek Immediate Medical Help (Horta)  
Activate  
  
  
---  
  
  


Steve unpacked the breathing mask and the hydration pump. He placed the breathing mask on Danny’s face, slid Danny’s right hand into the sleeve of the pump, hit the ‘Activate’ on the tricorder.

A moment later, the med tricorder chirped.

  
Breathing Mask - Activated  
Hydration Pump - Activated  
Scan Patient

  
  
---  
  
Steve jogged up the loading ramp, heaved some sample containers over, folded down one of the cots. He went back, crossed Danny’s arms across his chest, and picked him up. Danny was totally limp in his arms, and Steve was _not_ thinking about that, or how Danny had stopped breathing by the time Steve found the anti-venom spray.

He placed Danny in the cot, made sure his arm was still seated in the hydration pump, then grabbed two blankets from the emergency locker, tucked them under Danny’s legs. He tapped ‘Scan Patient’ and Danny’s vital signs began to scroll across the screen. He watched the numbers for a couple of minutes, before finally relaxing a little. 

Danny’s vital signs were slowly, but steadily, improving.

Steve dropped onto the nearest crate, scrubbing a hand over his face. That has been close--too damn close. And how had Danny even found a jamalkayanillia tree? They were supposed to only grow in the coastal zones of this planet.

He’d almost lost his Number One. 

Again.

Eighteen months ago, Steve had been handed his dream assignment; command of the U.S.S. Enterprise, a new Constitution-class starship. Even better, Clay Garcia would be his First Officer. 

He and Clay had gone through the academy together, been roommates the last two years, and gotten their first assignment on the same ship. Even when their careers took them in different directions, they’d stayed close. When Starfleet announced the Captain for the new ship, Clay was the first to call and congratulate him.

Four months into their assignment, Clay was diagnosed with Jakayer disease. Steve bent a lot of regulations, and broke a few more, in order to keep Clay on the Enterprise for the last three months of his life. Clay had been orphaned on Tarsus IV. Steve couldn’t save him, but he could at least make sure Clay died surrounded by people who cared about him, instead of dumped in some Starfleet hospital to die alone.

The next ten months had been hell. The Enterprise was assigned a new First Officer; the latest darling of the Starfleet command--and a belligerent, unlikable drunk. The crew had worked hard to get her to quit, and Steve had worked equally hard to somehow never quite notice their insubordination. 

She’d been replaced by an insufferable asshole who’d gotten into a personal beef with Kono--and then had expected Steve to back him up, just because he had a higher rank than her. 

After that guy quit, Steve got a rather lengthy dressing down by Starfleet Command--and Danny Williams. In the past month and half, Steve had learned one thing; Danny was very, very different from calm, quiet, unflappable Clay, but--

Danny’s eyes fluttered open--and he immediately reached up to take off the breathing mask.

“Just relax, Danny.” Steve grabbed his wrist, which was still worryingly puffy. “You gotta give the anti-venom some time to work.”

Danny rolled his head sideways, giving him a bleary, puzzled look, and that’s when Steve realized he’d called him ‘Danny’ instead of ‘Number One’ or ‘First Officer Williams’.

“Captain?” Kono slung her sample bag down, looked from Danny to Steve with concern. “Did you try to kill him, again?”

Steve stood up, started tugging down the straps, so he could secure Danny and the cot, “I haven’t--”

“You sent him to shut down that security array.” Second Science Officer Jeff Morrison scooped up the med tricorder, “Pretty sure ‘suicide run’ means “trying to kill him’. Also, can we please limit the number of rocks? Rocks are _heavy._ Oh, wow, a Jamalkayanillia tree? Really? I thought those were only a coastal species.”

Steve clipped the straps together, trying to make sure they were tight, without jostling Danny too much. “It wasn’t a suic-”

“Yeah, it was, Boss.” Kono stuffed her collection bag into a nearby container, and pulled a cargo net over it. “Come on, Jeff, sooner we get everything battened down, sooner we can get Danny back to medical.”

~~+~~  
**5\. Enterprise (Prompt 13: Breathe in, breathe out)**

Danny woke to the one sound no officer wants to hear--the ear splitting fire klaxon. He scrambled out of bed, hit his quarter’s comm panel, and hauled on his uniform. “Williams to Bridge. What’s going on?”

“Not sure.” Chief Helm Officer Lukela’s voice was clipped. “It’s a manual alarm, coming from the auxiliary life support systems in the second hull, but that section is usually unmanned.”

“Tell the Captain I’m heading down there.” Danny ran out of his quarters, and into the nearest turbo lift. He pulled up the ship’s schematics in his head. Secondary life support sat just behind the main engineering bulkhead, which meant the fire suppression system would have everything on Decks 15 and 16 aft of the bulkhead locked down. “Pump room, deck 15.”

He yanked on the red lever next to the door, and a couple of rebreathers dropped to the floor. The lift doors opened.

Anya, an Andorian cadet, and El, a Saurian who worked in Engineering, were both staring at the steps leading up to the maintenance hatch.

El turned. “We can’t open it without officer approval.”

“First, we are going to have a refresher on basic fire protocol.” Danny handed them each a rebreather. “That is a fire alarm, and a fire alarm means you wear a rebreather. Capice?”

El nodded, Anya squeaked, and they both slipped on their rebreathers.

Danny slipped his on as well, took the steps two at a time, and hauled the hatch open. The maintenance tunnel was narrow and tight and lit only with blue emergency lights. The tunnel was designed for the bi-weekly inspection of the secondary hull, so ran directly under it--and straight through the engineering bulkhead. 

Anya and El followed him, and Danny signaled for them to close the hatch. He hurried as fast as he could in the cramped space, and soon began breathing in moist, salty air--which meant the rebreather had turned on. It aslo meant there was smoke--and possibly chemicals--in the air. 

They passed the bulkhead, demarcated by slashes of reflective paint on a maintenance hatch. It was growing colder and colder, and that worried Danny, a _lot_. 

Cold meant zycrex crystals. 

Ships still carried zycrex crystals to suppress fires, but all modern ships carried fancy suppression systems that were supposed to prevent the need to use such toxic crap. Even the USS New Jersey, a rust bucket that should’ve been retired years ago, had fire suppression systems.

Ahead he saw something silver, then realized it was Chief Engineer Lou Grover, in a fire resistant suit. He was wearing a rebreather with a full face hood, and was on his stomach, hands deep in an access hatch, an engineering case within easy reach.

Danny crouched beside him, and fuck, it was cold. Shouted through the rebreather. “What do we got?”

“Aux bio two and three are toast. Main fire suppression system is offline. We had to--” Grover shouted back, as he continued to twist, changing out each of the solid state relay switches. “manually force a lockdown, flush the compartment.”

Shit. They’d flooded auxiliary life support with zycrex.

“Back up fire suppression?” Danny dug in the engineering case, passing him the new relays. Red C21, Gray N27, another Red C21.

Grover was replacing the relays as fast as Danny could hand them to him, “Also offline. Same with aux bio one and four--”

“Cracked power coupling?” It sounded like it to Danny, which meant an easy repair. He waited for Grover to snap the last new relay in, then Danny connected the leads to the engineering PADD, handed it over.

“Probably, but--” Grover connected the leads to the panel, “we had a compartment breach. Aux power banks are flooded, too.” He twisted, thumbing in the security override code, then tapped the PADD, starting the reboot process to hopefully bring the fire suppression system back online. 

Fuck. Half of auxiliary life support was down, their back up fire suppression system for engineering and life support was down, and the power banks for auxiliary life support were compromised. If the Enterprise followed the design of his last ship, that meant power to both the ship’s primary water supply, as well as the shuttle bay, was majorly fucked up.

“I’ll replace the power coupling.” El reached for the engineering case. “I’m a Saurian.”

Danny and Grover exchanged a look. Saurians were much, much tougher when it came to smoke and chemicals, but zycrex was nasty shit. 

Grover nodded, “I got the suit. I’ll go with you.”

“No.” Danny glanced at the PADD. The main fire suppression system was still booting up--and shit, it was hard to give orders shouting through a rebreather. “Give me the suit. You get the main system online.”

Not that he really wanted to crawl around in zycrex, wearing nothing more than a fire suppression suit and a rebreather, but two could replace a cracked power coupling faster than one--and thanks to the New Jersey, he was really, really good at replacing power couplers.

Grover wriggled out of the suit, and Danny pulled it on. They exchanged rebreathers, and Danny snapped the face hood down. El was already running back the way they’d just come, and Danny sprinted after him.

El crouched at the painted hatch, and opened it. The panel gave a protesting screech as it slid aside, revealing a small room with a crap load of power banks--and a floor covered with grey-green zycrex crystals.

El scrambled down, Danny passed down the engineering case, then slid down the ladder. They both grabbed testers, began working their way down the bank. 

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck. They had four cracked power couplers, and that? Was so, so not good. Every coupler was designed much like a fuse. If there was a backwash of power, the coupler would crack, safeguarding the rest of the bank.

El grabbed the tool that engineers called ‘the square’, levered up the four corner guards, pulled out the first coupler. Danny handed him a new coupler, and El slid it in, levered down the corner guards. While El levered up the corner guards for the next coupler, Danny punched the override button, then flipped the new coupler on. 

He turned and handed El another new coupler. It was a familiar dance thanks to serving on the USS New Jersey--though they’d never had to deal with more than three cracked power couplers.

Half way through replacing the third one, his rebreather gave out, unable to keep up with the outgassing from the zycrex. Each breath burned his throat and lungs, but Danny kept gamely working. He gasped in air as he punched the override, flipped on the new coupler, passed the fourth and final coupler to El, who slid it in. Danny sucked in another burning lungful, stepped sideways, and waited for El to bring the coupler on line. 

He tried to drag in air, his vision swimming, as he yanked open the main control board, fumbled for the safety override switch. He found it, threw it--

The power bank came back on. 

Oh fuck, he could not breath. He motioned for El to leave first, then stumbled over, grabbing the ladder. He struggled to take in one more lungful, his arms and legs suddenly heavy, and it took everything Danny had to drag himself up.He lost count of rungs--six, seven? Then hands grabbed him, pulled him through the hatch and somebody ripped his rebreather off, slapped a new one on. Wet, salty air flooded in and Danny took one grateful gulp--and passed out.

~~+~~


	2. Strategically Borrowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan was to get through a few more prompts and post tomorrow, but then my muse got super wordy. So I am posting this--and hoping to post more Wednesday. 
> 
> For any non-English speakers reading this chapter: Prevaricate is a long English word that just means "to mislead". Martial means "pertaining to war" or "War-like". For example, martial arts are just "arts pertaining to war".
> 
> Again, this is all woefully unbetaed.

~~+~~  
**6\. USS Enterprise (Prompt 14: Is something burning?)**

Steve was _not_ pacing. He was sitting in his Captain’s chair, and he was being calm, cool, and collected. Because his crew needed him to be. The bridge was packed with officers from both the first and third watch, and everybody was on edge, watching as the damage reports continued to scroll across their stations’ screens.

Inwardly, Steve was wondering what the fuck was happening in the second hull.

And why the hell was Danny _not_ on the bridge? He wasn’t an engineer--he had no business being down there.

Starfleet’s fire protocol was clear; if a fire started during third watch, then the first watch reported to their stations, so the ship would have enough manpower for the emergency, and the second watch reported to medical for possible triage. 

Steve tried to cut his crew some slack. This was a five year mission, and almost everyone was making some kind of personal sacrifice. Fire protocol was about _safety_ , though, and he expected everyone--especially his First Officer--to follow it.

“Grover to bridge.”

 _Finally._ Steve opened the comm. “Lou? Tell me what’s going on down there.”

“We got a new ship, that’s all. Still kickin’ the tires.” Lou’s voice was almost cheerful--Steve was obviously not the only one concerned about keeping the crew calm. “Auxiliary bio-support two caught fire, managed to take out auxiliary bio-support three, and temporarily knock out fire suppression back here. It’s all right, we just dosed everything down with zycrex, then brought fire suppression back online.”

 _Zycrex?_

A cold chill ran down Steve’s spine. How in the hell could a fire in auxiliary life support knock out the entire fire suppression system for engineering? That pointed to a serious design flaw in the Enterprise--and possibly the other Constitution-class ships. 

Chief Operations Officer Chin Ho and Chief Helm Officer Duke Lukela both looked at him, and Steve nodded. They began barking orders, and everyone on the bridge scrambled, pulling maintenance logs and engineering records. If there was a problem, they need to find it _fast_ , and alert the other ships.

“Understood.” Steve reminded himself, again, that pacing was not an option. “Tell First Officer Williams to report to the bridge.”

“It may be a while.” Lou’s tone was conversational. “He’s helping Ensign El get the auxiliary power banks back online. We made a bit of a mess with the zycrex.”

Ensign El--who was Saurian.

Zycrex.

Shit.

Steve was instantly on his feet. “Lukela, the bridge is yours.” He ran to the turbo lift. If the fire suppression system was working correctly, everything aft of the engineering bulkhead should be locked down. “Deck 15, pump station.”

Steve grabbed a rebreather from the lift’s supply, pulling it on as the doors opened. The pump room was full of medical personnel, all looking expectantly up at the maintenance hatch--that led to the inspection tunnel. 

Which only confirmed Steve’s fear. 

He barrelled up the steps, opened the hatch, wasted a couple of seconds closing it. Then charged down the tunnel, moving as fast as he could in the tight space. He saw two shapes ahead, just past the bulkhead--Chief Engineer Lou Grover and Anya, the Andorian cadet.

Lou looked at him, then down at the maintenance hatch.

Steve followed his gaze, and even in the tunnel, he could feel the icy cold that could only mean zycrex. He shouted through the rebreather. “How long have they been in there?”

“Twelve minutes,” Lou answered. He glanced down again, his tone worried. “Only takes four minutes to change out a power coupler.”

“Power coupler?” Steve hadn’t thought it could get much worse, but apparently it could. “The fire caused a backwash?”

Just then the hatch opened. It was Ensign El, looking almost as gray as the clogged fins of his rebreather. Steve grabbed him, pulled him out, and Cadet Anya knelt to replace his rebreather with one of the two she was holding.

Danny was still struggling up the ladder, and Steve reached down again, hauled him up. Anya handed over the other rebreather, then hastily closed the hatch while Steve ripped the full hood off, slapped the rebreather on Danny’s face. Danny sucked in one ragged breath--and passed out.

“Captain?” Ensign El’s voice was barely audible through the rebreather. “There...were...four...cracked...couplers.”

He and Lou locked eyes. How the hell did enough power build up to to crack four couplers?

Danny sucked in another few breaths, and his eyes fluttered open. “If... you two… are done... making... eyes... at… each other.” 

Steve helped Danny to his feet, Lou steadied the ensign, and they slowly followed Anya back to the hatch. The cadet opened it, and the medical team sprang into action.

Steve pulled off his rebreather as he walked with Lou to the turbo lift. The doors closed, blocking his view of Danny lying on a stretcher. Steve had to pull his mind back to the Enterprise. “I got the entire bridge crawling through maintenance logs. You have any idea how this could’ve happened?”

“None. I’ve had three power couplers crack at once, but that was a Romulan freighter we’d seized.” Lou had pulled off his rebreather, too. “You want to tell me when Number One became an engineer? Not that I’m complaining--those two just set a new record for replacing power couplers.”

Steve was wondering the same thing. “Not sure. He served on the USS New Jersey, before being assigned to the USS Honolulu.”

“Well, that explains it. The New Jersey should’ve been mothballed years ago, but Starfleet likes having an expendable ship patrolling the Romulan border. And the USS Honolulu is the prototype for the Constitution-class ships. I’ve heard they have had more than their fair share of shake down issues--” Lou stopped. “Do we have the schematics of the Honolulu?”

That also explained why Danny had gone to engineering instead of the bridge--Steve had a feeling neither ship followed standard fire protocol. 

The lift doors opened and he strode onto the bridge, “Jenna, check our banks, see if if we have the Honolulu’s schematics. Kono, find out if the Honolulu is within hailing distance. If so, I want their engineering logs yesterday.”

~~+~~  
**7\. USS Enterprise (Prompt 23:What’s a whumpee gotta do to get some sleep? with bonus! bed sharing!)**

Steve rubbed a hand over his face, and tried to mentally will the numbers on the PADD to stop swimming,

The door of his ready room slid open.

“Time to pack it in, Steve.” 

It was said in a hoarse whisper, and Steve jerked his head up, He saw Danny standing in the doorway, wearing a gray shirt and sweats, and it was odd to see his First Officer out of uniform.

He put his PADD down, leaned back in his chair, stifling a groan as his too tight neck muscles protested. “Aren’t you supposed to be in sickbay?”

“I was in sickbay.” Danny was still talking in that low, harsh whisper, “But then I received not one, not two, but _three_ complaints that you were biting people’s heads off--and that you made Jenna cry.”

Steve waved a hand at his PADD. “I need to--”

“Figure out how we can pick up the new fire suppression system, a fire suppression system that might actually _work_ , from Starbase 11.” Danny leaned a hip against Steve’s desk, and it was making Steve’s oen throat hurt listening to Danny’s harsh whisper. “Retrofit the shit out of the fucked up mess in our second hull, make room for the new bio-tanks and power banks and other crap, and still make it to Babel for the treaty signing?”

“I was going to go with ‘correct the ship’s design flaw’, since I have to put all of this in a captain’s log, but yes.”

“Here.” Danny placed a PADD on top of Steve’s PADD.

Steve picked it up. “What’s this?”

“Shift schedules. I called my uncle, who works on Starbase 11, and found out they have three manned communications satellites, plus a nearby research station. If we use their personnel, and pull some double shifts, we should be able to stuff the new system in, still get to Babel on time.”

Steve rubbed a hand over his eyes, then started to scroll through the PADD, but his vision kept blurring. He glanced up, saw Danny was eying him. “What?”

“Well, when someone creates this many shift schedules--from my sickbed, may I add--a normal, civilized person would say ‘thank you’.”

Steve found himself smiling despite his exhaustion. “Thank you.”

“See? Was that so--” Danny coughed, a deep painful-sounding cough.

Steve winced. “You sound like you need to be in sickbay.”

l’m good.” Danny picked up Steve’s PADD, powered it off. “Even Kermit says I’m going to live.”

Steve found himself smiling again. All medical personnel wore pale green--and only Danny would use the color to slap an obscure reference to a twentieth century children’s toy on their chief medical doctor. “You realize nobody knows who that is, right?”

“Because kids today don”t appreciate the classics.” Danny shot back. “Steven, you’re not an engineer. Send the schedules to Lou; he can check them tomorrow.”

Steve looked down at Danny’s PADD, and gave in. He sent the schedules to his Chief Engineer to review, turned off the PADD, and heaved himself to his feet.

They walked out of the ready room to the turbo lift, and Danny reached out, put a hand on Steve’s arm. One simple gesture, but Steve was suddenly aware of just how little sleep he’d gotten in the past few days. 

“My quarters.” Steve said, as he stepped into the lift. He waited for the doors to shut, then leaned against the turbo lift wall, “You’re not an engineer, either.”

“Yeah? I fixed our ship, didn’t I?" Danny coughed again and Steve frowned. The lift doors opened before he could say anything.

Danny put a hand on the small of Steve’s back. “Time for bed, babe.”

His Number One had just called him babe--and was following him into his quarters. “Danny, this is not your quarters.”

“I know.” Danny nonchalantly agreed, “But if I go to my quarters, Kermit will find me.”

Steve was shucking off his shirt. He turned, “You said you’d been released from medical.”

“No, you assumed I was released, I prevaricated.”

“Prevaricated?” Steve glanced toward the bathroom and then back at Danny, who had sat down on the bed. His bed. And--he just didn’t have anything left in him to deal with the sonic shower _or_ his First Officer.

“Yes, prevaricated.” Danny slid under the covers, coughed again, “It’s a good word: you should use it in those captain’s logs of yours.”

Steve tugged off his black undershirt; then half dropped, half fell onto the bed, and pulled off his boots. He hesitated, looked over at Danny--and got under the covers. Exhaustion crashed like a wave over him, and he was barely aware of Danny ordering the lights off, before sleep sucked him down.

~~+~~  
**8\. Tamaran (Alternative 12: Water)**

Kono opened the door, and Steve staggered out into the sunlight. He was carrying Science Officer Jenna Kaye fireman style, and he had to stop for a moment, adjust her weight. The movement sent a fresh spike of pain through his cracked ribs, and reminded him of every one of his many bruises.

“I can take her.” Danny offered.

“I’m good.” Steve looked around the plaza--and then he saw it. He forced his protesting body into a jog.

Kono fell in beside him, giving him a sharp look, “We’re stealing the governor’s shuttle?”

“No.” Danny was on his other side, “We are _not_ stealing the governor’s shuttle.”

“We’re just,” Steve could feel himself starting to lag. He kept his eyes on the small shuttle, mentally willing himself to go faster, “Strategically borrowing it.”

“Strategically borrowing?” Danny was giving him ‘the look’, “What the hell does that even mean?”

Suddenly, there was a large explosion. Steve slowed, looked behind him. Where there had once been the four soaring spires of the governor’s palace, there was now empty sky. 

The palace was a smoking ruin.

“On second thought, strategic borrowing seems like a viable option.” Danny sprinted to the shuttle, wrenched open the door, and clambered inside. He turned, and helped Steve deposit Jenna on the floor. 

Steve hauled himself in, “Kono, secure her.”

The shuttle was tiny, a Harris six seater. Steve slid into the pilot’s seat, hit the three switches. The shuttle purred to life.

“We’re good back here, Boss.”

Steve punched the thrusters. The shuttle launched itself skyward, and Danny threw himself into the co-pilot seat. “How do you manage to keep doing this?”

“Doing what?” Steve had expected the shuttle to have the newer, wimpier Mav 4 power plant, but it clearly had the much older, and much more powerful Hansin 12.

“How do you manage to keep picking diplomatic missions that turn into ‘oh look, rebels are shooting at us’.” Danny was digging through something. Steve glanced sideways, saw it was a small med kit. “We have been on five-- _five_ \--diplomatic missions since I have been assigned to the Enterprise. Hold still.” He got up, put a hand on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve felt the uncomfortable pinch of a hypospray.

“You know what has happened on those five missions? I have been shot at, shot at and then javelined at, beaten and shot at, and now? I have been shot at again-- _and_ Jenna was gassed.”

It must’ve been a stabilizer spray. The drug cocktail was hitting his system, washing away the pain, and giving him a sudden boost of energy. Steve would crash hard in two or three hours, but for now, it helped. “Civil war.”

“Civil war?” Danny was rustling in the bag again. “Kono? Give this to Jenna.”

Steve punched on the almost useless camera system, so he could scan the skies around them. “By Starfleet regulations--which you keep quoting at me--this is a civil war, not a rebellion. And there was no shooting on Htrae VI.”

“You’re only bringing up Htrae VI because the Orion kept making googly eyes at you.” Danny shot back, “And don’t change the subject.”

Steve heard a low moan from the back of the shuttle, and then the sound of someone being sick. There must’ve been a neutralizing spray in the shuttle’s med kit as well.

“I am not--” Steve saw four gray specks in the sky behind them, “Uh oh.” He made a decision, hauled the shuttle hard to port, then dropped the nose, barreling towards the pedestrian tunnel that ran between the two islands.

“Woah!” Danny grabbed one of the cargo straps on the wall, “Warn a guy will you? And what do you mean--Steve!! Stop!! We’re not going to fit!!”

“We’ll fit. This is an older Harris, with a Hansin power plant. It doesn’t even have stabilizer struts.” The shuttle fit--but barely. It was a good thing the civil war had emptied out the usually busy tunnel.

Steve took the tunnel fast, already mapping out the terrain ahead. The planet’s security array didn’t allow transporter beams, so they’d taken a shuttle down to the planet, parked it on the beach of the other island. All they had to do was go through the tunnel, bank to starboard, and follow the coastline for two clicks to get to their shuttle-- _if_ he had shaken off their pursuers.

“Seriously? What, you just lay in bed at night, memorizing random facts about shuttles? Who the hell does that--um, Steve?” Danny was staring at the tiny monitors, “We still got one tailing us.”

“Hold on--” Steve opened up the throttle, trying to clear the tunnel before the hovercraft caught up to them, so he could take evasive action--

The hovercraft opened fire. The shuttle shuddered, bucked--and yawed sideways. Steve managed, barely, to miss the lip of the tunnel as they exited, but then the guidance yoke froze up, and he had no option but to drop altitude, ditching them into the ocean.

The shuttle ploughed into the water. Everything pitched and rolled, and Steve’s head slammed hard into something. Then Danny’s hand landed on his arm, tugging. Steve twisted to follow, but his body felt weirdly heavy, and it took a moment to kick himself loose of the cockpit. 

The emergency belly hatch was open, and Danny tugged again, and Steve followed him down and through. Kono and Jenna were below them, swimming through the water, and Kono twisted, pointing upward.

Their pursuer was still above, checking for survivors.

Steve’s lungs were already straining from lack of air, but he swam after the others, trying to ignore the mounting pressure in his side, and the spots beginning to cloud his vision. 

After what seemed an eternity, Kono swam upward, and a moment later, they broke surface near the shore, under the shelter of a large tangle of vines. Steve gasped for breath, only to grunt as a sharp flare of pain broke through the comfortable haze of the stabilizer spray.

Danny glanced over at him, but then Jenna made it to the shallow--and immediately started dry-heaving. Danny waded over to her, helping her to the shoreline, careful to stay under the spreading canopy of the vines.

Steve followed more slowly, stumbling towards the shore, not quite able to find solid footing in the sandy bottom. He wondered if he’d gotten a bad batch of stabilizer. It’d happened to him once, back in his academy days--the stabilizer had only lasted for an hour, and he’d been sick for two days afterwards.

“Steve?”

“Boss?”

Danny and Kono said it at the same time. Then Danny was wrapping an arm around him, while Kono pushed through the vines and disappeared. Steve wasn’t going to lean on Danny, but somehow he was already leaning on Danny, who was lowering him to the warm sands of the beach--

There was a chunk of metal sticking out of his side. 

Steve instinctively reached down--and Danny batted his hand away. “If you remove that and you bleed to death, I swear, I will never let you live it down.”

“That doesn’t make--” 

“You want to know what else doesn’t make sense?” Danny’s hand landed on his shoulder, squeezed. “You, crash-landing us in the ocean, when there is a perfectly good beach right here. I had to swim, Steve. _Swim._ In fucking water.”

Now Steve had seen the piece of metal, he was aware of a nagging sliver of pain, and the weird almost-pressure in his side that was making it hard to breathe. “You don’t like to swim?” 

“No, I don’t like to swim. In fact, I--”

“The shuttle’s right over the next dune,” Kono reappeared, helped Jenna to her feet, “and the hovercraft just left.” 

Steve steeled himself, then got to his feet, hissing when the pain turned white hot at the motion. Danny slipped an arm around him again. “Come on, stay with me, babe. Just a little further, all right?”

~~+~~  
**9\. USS Enterprise (Alt 3: Comfort)**

Steve swam back up to consciousness. becoming slowly aware of the distinctive smells of the Enterprise’s sickbay; the slightly sweet scent of the antimicrobial stuff they pumped into the air, mixed with the deeper scent of forest--Starfleet’s latest attempt at ‘sensory therapy’. He could hear the faint notes of Chief Medical Officer Bergman playing piano in another room--and somebody was holding his right hand.

He cracked his eyes open; saw it was Danny.

Danny had his other hand on his PADD, his thumb flicking across the screen in an irritated gesture that usually meant some crew member had half-assed a report. He raised his eyes. “Yes.”

Steve looked at him, confused.

“Yes, we have a treaty.” Danny laid the PADD in his lap, still not letting go of Steve’s hand. His voice washed over Steve, as he waved his other hand through the air. “Chin negotiated with the new government at 1600 hours yesterday. They wanted a representative on the Federation trade council for this sector, and a jointly run research center to keep an eye on the nearby nebula.”

“We get all the cealystum we want and the rights to hang a space station in the general vicinity. Oh, and we were both wrong. Every twenty-five years they hold a general election by blowing shit up.” Danny grinned, “Don’t worry, I didn’t say that in the captain’s log--I just referred to it a ’martial democracy’.”

~~+~~


	3. The Tenor Lacks Machismo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late because my muse got excessively wordy again. And still unbetaed.
> 
> I've got a busy-ish weekend, but am hoping to have next chapter up by Tuesday?

~~+~~  
**10\. Veloos X (Prompt 21: I don’t feel so well)**

There were two ways to get into Starfleet. The first was through the academy on Earth, a requirement for all officers, and anyone wanting to work on the newer, shiner ships. The second way was to take two years of mostly boring training at the nearest space station, to do a mostly boring job, doing mostly boring things--like shipping lane guidance and communication array maintenance.

It was one of the few truly logical things about Starfleet--which meant Command was constantly trying to muck it up with some new way to “make our Second Trackers feel like they are part of the fleet!” 

Danny usually didn’t mind interacting with Second Trackers. He’d been raised on a space station, and knew, better than most, that Second Trackers were the glue that held Starfleet together. 

The problem was Veloos X was a giant, muggy, humid, swamp--and Danny was sick. Well, he wasn’t sick _sick_. His throat was just kind of scratchy, and he was hot and achy. 

Slogging through a swamp when he was sick was at the very top of Danny’s list of “things I never want to do”--right next to “swimming” and “wrestle a Sharian mud bear”. The fact Danny had now done all three of these things was proof he should have never, ever listened to his guidance counselor.

He pulled a tissue out of his tricorder case, and wiped his nose.

At least one of the six cadets was having fun. Mala, a tall El-Aurian, was cheerfully taking samples of everything, while discussing ‘ecological niches’ and “variance within species” with Science Officer Jenna Kaye.

Skef, a stocky male Bajoran, was packing the samples into a third container with an expression of sheer, dogged resignation.

According to their personnel records, La’yit and Zanol were Andorians, but they must’ve been from one of the more obscure moons, because the only thing Andorian about them was their antennae. They had shaggy orangish-red fur, and it was clear neither was a fan of swamps--or having to lug the two already full containers.

The other cadets were Garra, a Son’a, and their mate, whose name was unpronounceable. Danny wasn’t sure if the Son’as were having some kind of lovers’ tiff, or they just really, really hated swamps. Maybe a little of both.

Mala stopped to babble excitedly about a purple centipede-looking bug and Jenna pulled out another sample bag. The other cadets looked at each other glumly, and Steve, being Steve, began swinging his machete through the air as he waited.

Danny took the opportunity to take another swig of water, and wipe his nose again. 

Steve stopped nonchalantly waving the long and dangerously sharp instrument around, and sidled over to him. He scrutinized Danny for a long moment. “You’re sick.”

“I _told_ you I was sick.” It was not a whine. Danny was a First Officer, and First Officers did not whine, even if they were sick and stuck in a damp, squelchy, humid swamp. And now his nose was running. Again.

“You said you were feeling under the weather.”

“Yes. I know that means absolutely nothing to you--but among normal, sane people? It means I’m ‘sick’.” Danny gave up, and pulled a tissue out of his tricorder case.

Steve eyed him for another long moment, then strode over to Mala and Jenna. “Good job, everyone! Number One is going to beam back to the ship with these cases--and then Second Science Officer Morrison will beam down and show you all how to take pollen counts.”

Danny hastily opened his communicator before Steve could reconsider--or start killing things--and Mala’s eyes went wide. “Can we measure mold counts, too? Please?!”

~~+~~  
**11\. USS Enterprise (Prompt 29: I think I need a doctor with bonus! undressing!)**

Danny sat in the Captain’s chair, while the crew on the bridge kept surreptitiously glancing at the door to the Captain’s ready room.

“Sir?” Navigation Officer Ortega straightened, “We’re through the asteroid field.”

Danny stood, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief, even though he knew asteroids weren’t much of a threat to a state-of-the-art ship like the Enterprise. Old habits from serving on the USS New Jersey died hard. “All right, bring her to Warp Four, Ortega. Chin, the bridge is yours.”

Now he just had to deal with their _other_ problem.

Danny headed into the ready room--where Steve was working on the new manifest list. It was clear from his too bright eyes, and flushed face, that he had a fever, and Danny felt a little bit guilty that he’d given Steve the crud.

He put a hip on Steve’s desk. “You do realize we have a chief operations officer, an operations officer, two quartermasters, and two junior quartermasters on this ship, right?”

Steve coughed into his elbow, “We have to take on mining equipment--”

“At the next space station. Yes.” Danny cut him off. “I’m also aware that we have six officers who have been trained--thoroughly trained, I might add, thank you Starfleet--to cram crap into cargo bays. But if you want to know my personal suggestion? We just move the volleyball court.”

Steve shook his head, “We don’t have a volleyball court--” He stopped, and sank back in his chair, his lips quirking up in amusement.

“So, you do pay attention to what I say. I was beginning to wonder.” Danny laid a hand on Steve’s shoulder, “Come on, send Chin your recommendations, and then, oh, I don’t know, try setting an example for the crew? Unless you _want_ crew members to work at their stations when they’re sick.”

His point hit home. Steve made a few more notations, sent the updated manifest to Chin, and coughed into his elbow again. “Happy?”

“No.” Danny put a hand under his elbow, “Up, Steven.”

Steve acquiesced, hauling himself to his feet as if every joint ached.

Danny dogged his steps to the turbolift, waited for the doors to close. “Sickbay.”

Steve sighed. Heavily. And sniffled.

The doors opened directly into sickbay, where the lovers’ final duet from Gav'ot toH'va was playing. Very, very loudly.

Steve winced, and Danny grinned. “You’re right, the tenor needs a little more machismo.”

“Lower volume fifty percent.” Chief Medical Officer Max Bergman appeared, and the music softened to a much more bearable level. “I was not aware you listened to Klingon opera, First Officer Williams.”

“My mother likes Klingon opera, ergo, we all had to like Klingon opera.” Danny jerked his head at Steve. “He’s sick. I think I gave him the Rigelian flu.

“I just need you to give me something so I can--” Steve coughed into his elbow, and sniffled again.

“What you need most, Captain McGarrett, is rest and fluids, but I will give you something to assist with the fever.” Bergman led them to a small side room, pointed to a diagnostic bed, “Please sit.”

Steve reluctantly sat, and glanced at Danny, obviously hoping he would leave.

“You want to explain to me why it’s called the Rigelian flu?” Danny crossed his arms, settled against the door frame. “Rigelians are just grumpy Vulcans, and I thought Vulcans and humans couldn’t swap viruses.”

“That is an excellent question. My understanding is the original strain was spread by the Rigelian Trade Commision, which was started by several species from the Beta Quadrant, including two sub-species of humans.” Bergman studied the bed’s diagnostic screen, then filled two hyposprays, administered them. “I have prescribed two days bedrest, Captain McGarrett. Attempt to return to active duty early and I will make it three.”

Steve looked at him, back at Danny--and nodded unhappily. “Fine.”

Danny dogged Steve’s steps back to the turbolift. The lift was halfway to their deck when Steve suddenly sagged against the wall. 

Huh. Bergman was a sneaky bastard.

He wrapped a steadying arm around Steve, impatiently waiting for the doors to open, because Steve was leaning more and more heavily on him. The doors finally opened, and Danny guided Steve across the hall to his quarters, and gently pushed him down on the bed. 

Thanks to his Aenar roommate back in the academy, Danny had a lot of experience undressing people--in a solely platonic way. 

“Lift your arms.” He tugged Steve’s gold shirt off, then his black undershirt. Knelt and pulled Steve’s boots off. “All right, lay back.”

Steve mumbled something unintelligible, and fell back against the mattress. Danny swung his legs up, hesitated for a second, then undid Steve’s belt, tugged his pants off, and pulled the covers up.

Steve began snoring.

Danny smiled at that, as he checked the room’s controls. He raised the temperature a couple of degrees, set the room’s motion sensor to alert him when Steve got up.

Then Danny punched off the lights, and quietly slipped out of the room.

~~+~~  
**12\. Rigelian Freighter (Prompt 2: In the hands of the enemy)**

His captors tossed Steve into the cargo bay. He hit the decking plates hard, and everything exploded into fresh agony. The hatch closed, abruptly plunging the bay into darkness. Steve rolled to his side in the blackness, trying to breath through the pain--a hand touched his left arm.

“McGarrett?” Adam gave a weak, mirthless laugh. “Please tell me this isn’t your idea of a rescue.”

“Somebody,” Steve groaned as he rolled onto his back, the movement making the pain of broken ribs and a dislocated left arm flare white hot. He reached out with his right hand, grabbing Adam’s hand. “--somebody had to rescue you. The Admiral was getting worried.” 

Admiral Noshimuri had served with Steve’s dad and Adam’s dad on the USS Antares. The Admiral adopted Adam when he was seven, and had become Steve’s mentor after his dad was killed in the attack on the Douglas Station. 

Adam squeezed his hand. “You’re doing a hell of a job, so far.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Steve let go, and slid his right hand into his waistband, his fingers fumbling for the object he had hidden there, “And I stole a redmist.”

“You’re going to rescue us with an illegal cigarette?”

“If I do, you’re buying the next drink.” He gritted his teeth, and sat up. Pain screamed through him, and he had to drag in a couple of ragged breaths before he could move again. “This past month, I’ve learned more than I ever wanted to know about fire suppression systems. Give me your hand.”

Adam’s fingers hit his knee. Steve pushed the cigarette into Adam’s hand. “Hold it--yeah, just like that. Did you know over eighty percent of fire suppression parts are Rigelian-made? Their Trade Commision was the first group to insist all their ships be fitted with the systems.”

He double-checked the redmist was positioned with the filter down, then he slid his thumb up the cigarette, searching for the slight bump of the internal lighter.

Adam laughed again, but this time it was genuine. “Never thought I would be getting a history lesson from you, McGarrett.”

This was one of those dumb tricks Steve had learned at the boarding school he’d been sent to after his mother’s death. A redmist was dangerous because it was easy--too easy--to break the capsule of accelerant. Steve found the internal lighter, pressed a thumbnail into it. He pressed again, and felt the capsule break. He swept his thumb down, checking. The filter was turning spongy as the accelerant soaked into the filter material. 

“Give it to me.” Steve pushed himself to his feet, willing himself to ignore the fiery shards of pain exploding through him. He hit the small button on the redmist and dropped it. The internal lighter immediately turned the accelerant-soaked cigarette into a burst of blue flames. 

The fire klaxon went off--and the hatch door snicked open.

“Guess I owe you that drink--even though you still owe me two.” Adam limped after Steve into the hall. In the dim lighting, he looked like shit. He had a split lip, one eye that was swollen shut, and a nasty gash under the other eye.

He glanced down the hall, then turned, shot Steve a wide grin. “We’re in the aft cargo bays--want to steal a loader?”

Loaders were essentially an unmanned shuttle designed to load cargo--and one of the few things Steve had never flown. He shoved his left hand into the waistband of his pants, to keep his dislocated shoulder from moving too much, and returned Adam's grin. “We might as well have _some_ fun while we’re here, right?"

~~+~~  
**13\. USS Enterprise (Prompt 15: Into the great unknown)**

The bridge was silent, except for the occasional alert from the nav computer, and the soft pings from the communication screens. The crew was tense and quiet, each officer pretending to be focused on their station.

Danny sat, staring at the view screen, and the never-ending black stretch of space. Somewhere out there was the ship that had captured Steve--and he had absolutely no idea where to even begin looking. They had narrowed the ship down to one of two Rigelian freighters that had left Kyon 12 in the last day cycle. 

The problem was Rigelian freighters were pretty much all the same design, and their captains switched crews and ship designation numbers with no real rhyme or reason.

The lift doors opened, and Chief Engineering Officer Lou Grover stepped onto the bridge. “I have an idea, but it may be a long shot. First ship I ever served on, we captured a Romulan freighter. Most of their freighters don’t use a Jorrgson field to stabilize the dilithium crystals. Since a lot of Rigelian freighters are built in the same ship docks, maybe they don’t use Jorrgson fields, either?”

Kono turned away from the communication screens, “That sounds dangerous.”

“It is, but freighters have a slim profit margin, and warp technology isn’t cheap.” Grover stopped next to the captain’s chair. “Our Science Officer submitted a paper, a theoretical way to track Romulan freighters. Without a Jorrgson field, each ship’s expulsion arc should, technically, be unique.” 

“You’re right. Both of the Rigelian freighters that left Kyon 12?” Jenna’s hands were flicking quickly through her screens, “don’t have a Jorrgson field. I’m requesting an analysis of their expulsion arcs now.”

“Yes, but how are we going to check the expulsion arc of every Rigelian freighter in this quadrant?” Kono asked. “That could take weeks.”

Danny stood up, as an idea hit him. Thanks to his years on the New Jersey, he knew the Romulan border well--too well. “Without that field, the freighter would be limited to around warp five, right?”

“Yes, warp four or five would be their top speed.” Lou answered.

“If her crew pushed her, they could be at Naran in a cycle and half.”

Naran was an outpost in disputed space between the Federation and the Romulans. It was the kind of place where anything could be acquired--as long as it wasn’t legal. Danny still had no idea why Rigelians would kidnap an admiral’s son, but Naran made sense as a likely destination. 

“Naran would certainly make a good bolt hole.” Chin was following his thinking, “If we get there first, then we can check every freighter coming in, using their arc signatures.”

“Kono, send an encrypted message to Starfleet, let them know we are entering the disputed space around Naran, priority yellow.” Danny put a hand on Ortega’s shoulder. “As soon as Jenna has that expulsion arc data, take us to warp eight. I want to be there, waiting, when the Rigelians drop out of warp.”

The energy on the bridge shifted, the crew settling into their usual hum of activity. Danny only wished he had their confidence--

Lou glanced sideways, “Permission to speak, sir?”

The question caught him off guard, “Sure.”

“Is your brother’s disappearance--”

“Affecting me?” Danny forced himself to sit down, ignoring the crew’s looks at this piece of information he’d never shared. He kept his tone steady, his words formal. “Thank you for your concern, but that was more than three years ago, and doesn’t pertain to this situation.”

Lou nodded, “Unless you need you me, then, I’ll be in Engineering.”

Danny also nodded, then stared again at the view screen. He had lied. Even just thinking about Matty hurt, an aching hole he didn’t really know how to deal with. Matty and two others had disappeared from a mining post near the Romulan border three years ago. There were no leads, and the security tapes had been wiped, but it was thought it could’ve been Romulan raiders. 

Danny had a different theory. There had been warning signs. Matty had been in and out of trouble for years, had become a Second Tracker only by the skin of his teeth. Matty had probably been running some racket--and he wound up paying for it.

Some days, Danny wished his brother’s body would turn up, that his mother could have at least that much. Other days, he found himself half-believing, half-hoping Matty was just laying low somewhere. That his brother was still out there, very much alive.

And as he had told Lou, his brother’s disappearance didn’t have anything to do with the current situation. Danny pulled his mind back to the Enterprise--and finding Steve.

~~+~~  
**14\. Romulan Border (Prompt 11: Psych 101)**

The Enterprise waited. The Romulan border was full of debris from the many battles and disputes fought along it. They had powered down every system they could, killed communications, and now the ship hung, dark and silent, hiding in the remnants of several Birds of Prey.

The bridge was crowded. It was second watch, but Danny had put the ship on blue alert, which meant the crew could choose whether or not to leave their post at shift’s end. First watch had stayed.

Danny waited as well, trying to decide what he should do when the freighter showed up. Command had told him to use his discretion, but confronting a Rigelian freighter here, this close to Romulan space, would create a ‘diplomatic incident’ at the very least. 

But Danny also couldn’t imagine having to face Admiral Noshimuri, and try to explain why he hadn’t done everything in in his power to save his son. 

_What if it was Matty?_

“We have another freighter that’s dropped out of warp.” Kono announced, looked over at their Science Officers, Jenna and Jeff.

The entire bridge seemed to hold their collective breath. There’d already been two other freighters, but neither had the right arc signature.

“It’s a match.” Jenna confirmed, “Definitely one of the two freighters that were at Kyon 12.”

Danny stood. _Decision time._ He could think of three ways to cripple the freighter, with minimum loss of life--

“Sir?” Jeff spoke, his tone baffled. “There’s a loader leaving the freighter.”

“Visual.” Danny watched the loader break away, begin drifting. Why would a loader be leaving a freighter out here, this far away from port? Loaders were automated shuttles, and even though some ships used them as emergency escape pods, they didn’t even have decent life support systems, or navigation controls--

Because stealing a loader would be exactly the stupid, insane, crazy shit that Steve would do.

“Jenna?” Danny strode over to the science station. “Scan that loader for life forms.” 

“There’s two! Definitely humanoid!” She beamed up at him, and the other crew began to talk, the bridge turning noisy with relief.

Danny knew he should’ve felt the same relief, but he didn’t. 

He just felt… numb.

“Ortega? As soon as that freighter’s out of range, we’ll pick them up. Chin? Take Xio,” Danny nodded at the junior quartermaster, “I need you to re-calibrate the emergency shuttle retrieval system--it’s not designed to register something as small as a loader. Kono, tell Bergman we need a medical team standing by in the shuttle bay.”

Chin and Xio ran to the turbo lift, Chin slowing just for a second, to glance at Danny. He was obviously wondering why Danny wasn’t heading to the shuttle bay, too.

Danny ignored him, and sat back down in the Captain’s chair. He was glad Steve was safe--he really was. But his own brother was still out there, and nobody had brought Matty home.

~~+~~  
**15\. Enterprise (Alt 7: Found Family)**

Danny finished the last batch of personnel reviews, laid the PADD down. He should’ve been tired. He’d been up since the middle of third watch, then worked first and most of second watch--he glanced at the time.

Correction, third watch had already started.

He leaned back in the chair for a moment. There was a holo on one of the shelves in the ready room; Admiral Noshimuri and Steve, in their dress uniforms. He assumed the other man, with his arm around Steve’s shoulders, was Adam.

Danny had called Admiral Noshimuri, assured him his son was safe. The Admiral had also asked about Steve, in a fatherly way. He’d dutifully relayed the information Doctor Bergman had given him--stable, would make a full recovery.

Danny pushed himself to his feet, promising himself he would go to Sickbay tomorrow. He felt guilty, but he… he just needed some time. He ordered the lights off, walked out of the ready room. 

Chin was sitting at the science station. He got up, fell in next to Danny as he entered the lift.

“Chief Engineer’s office.” Chin said it before Danny could speak. “You look like you could use a drink.”

He stared at the turbo lift doors for a long minute, then looked back at Chin. Managed a small smile that he didn’t really feel. “Sure. As long as it’s strong.”

“I think we have you covered. Lou likes Mexican Tequila. Me?” Chin put a hand on his shoulder, steering Danny out of the lift as soon as the doors opened. “I prefer Aldebaran whiskey. I’m pretty sure we still have a bottle or two of kanar, too.”

~~+~~


	4. We're Gonna Need to Pick Up More Ice Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For non-English speaking readers: JAG aka Judge Advocate General, is the legal/investigative arm of the U.S. military. (It’s established canon that there is JAG in Starfleet, at least in some novels?)

~~+~~  
**16\. USS Enterprise (Prompt 23 Redux:What’s a whumpee gotta do to get some sleep?)**

Steve had been stuck in Sickbay for the past two days, and he was going stir-crazy--or at least he would’ve been, if he could stay awake. He had only a few more items on his PADD that required his attention, but he kept losing his place.

He re-read the screen _again_ , very much aware of how long he’d kept Kono standing there--

“Captain McGarrett needs his rest.” Max appeared in the doorway.

“Sorry, boss.” Kono put a hand out for the PADD. “Kermit is much scarier than you.”

Steve should’ve said something about the nickname, but he suspected Max secretly liked it. Instead, he signed and submitted what was on the screen, and let her take the PADD.

As soon as she left, Max lowered the head of the bed, then placed Steve’s right arm back in the hydration pump. 

Steve winced at the sharp sting as the pump found a vein. “I’ve slept enough. Can’t you just give me something?”

“As I have explained before,” Max tapped the control on the blanket, “The muscle regenerator taxes the body. Add in the Rigelian flu, and the your pattern of recent injuries, and your body is exhausted. What you need is fluids and rest.”

The blanket changed, becoming a heavy, warm weight, and Steve found himself struggling to keep his eyes open against the bone-grinding exhaustion rolling over him. “How… how much longer…?”

“As long as is required.” Max dimmed the lights, put a hand on his shoulder. “Rest, Captain.”

Steve wanted to protest more, but fatigue was already sucking him down--

He drifted back to consciousness, slowly becoming aware of his body, which ached with weariness--as if he’d just spent hours doing physical exertion, instead of sleeping.

Steve opened his eyes. 

The lights were still dim, and Chin was sitting beside him. He put down the PADD he’d been reading. “How are you feeling?”

Steve shifted, fumbling with his left hand to find the control of the blanket because now he was too warm. “Better.”

Chin shook his head at the lie as he reached over, changed the setting on the blanket, then raised the head of the bed. He handed Steve a glass of water. “Here--yeah, I know, but this is Max. The crew loves you, by the way. Starfleet has ordered us to Rhoken for some R&R, and there’s rumors of a commendation.” 

Steve drank, because Max was a big believer in “lots of fluids” --even when the patient was hooked to a hydration pump. The water was cold, and it should’ve helped him wake up. Both his mind and his body, though, remained stubbornly exhausted.

He managed two sips, sank back against the pillow. “Guess that means I should steal loaders more often.”

“Well, next time, try to pick one that doesn’t have a solenoid leak.” Chin took the glass, with a small smile. “We had to replace two sections of decking and Danny is still complaining about it.”

The one person who hadn’t visited him yet. Steve looked over at Chin, and saw his expression change. “Chin? What’s going on?”

“Honestly? I’m considering filing a formal complaint of misconduct against the CMO of the Honolulu. Danny’s brother went missing three years ago, and all they did was throw some psych drugs at him.” Chin paused. “You remember Captain A’jaili’s granddaughter?”

“The one who went missing from the mining--” Steve’s tired brain finally clicked on the ‘three years’, and pieces of Danny’s personnel file came back to him. “Danny’s youngest brother was one of the techs that disappeared.”

Chin nodded. “And of course, there’s also Rigel VII. “

Steve wanted to kick himself. He’d reviewed Danny’s record, but he’d just assumed the Chief Medical Officer of the USS Honolulu had done their damn job. ”How’s he doing?”

“He’s on a regimen of psych drugs now, and Lou’s got him talking.” Chin’s voice went quiet, as it usually did when he was thinking about his fiancee. “But these things take time.”

Steve managed, barely, to reach out, touch Chin’s knee. “I wish I could’ve met Malia.”

“Yeah, me too.” Chin stared at the wall for a moment, then handed him back the glass. “Here. You need to drink more than just a few swallows.”

~~+~~  
**17\. Rhoken (Alt 3 Redux: Comfort)**

Steve swung his legs over the side of the hover-stretcher, and blinked as the entire room spun.

Nurse Mlln patted his shoulder, “Take your time, Captain.” 

She was a Geron, plump and blue, and her face was startlingly human-like, except she had multiple long eye stalks instead of eyes.

The room settled, and Steve took a deep breath, pushed himself to his feet. 

Chin immediately slid an arm around him, steadying him as they stepped onto the transporter pad. “Come on, time for some R&R.”

They materialized on a sandy beach. Starfleet used several planets for shore leave, but Rhoken was the coveted prize for R&R. Like Earth, it was two-thirds water, and known for its beautiful beaches and warm oceans.

There was a cluster of awnings nearby, each with a handful of patio chairs. Chin continued to support him, as he walked to the nearest one. It was only about six feet, but it might as well have been a mile. 

Steve sank down in a patio chair, waved Chin away. “Go, enjoy yourself.”

Nurse Mlln set her bag down on another chair, pulled one of the low side tables over. Steve gave in, propped his feet on it. She took out a container of water, flipped open the top, set it in the chair’s cup holder.

“I will make you a deal. Sit there and behave,” She grabbed her PADD and pointed it at the awning, darkening it by fifty percent, “and I will just watch vids, and not fuss.”

“Deal.” Steve nodded, picking up the water, “See? I’m behaving.”

She gave a chirp, the closest thing Gerons had to laughter, and plopped down in a patio chair. 

Steve took a sip of water, and stretched out. After three days of doing almost nothing but sleep, he no longer felt quite as tired--but his body continued to ache, and any physical activity still wiped him out. 

Rhoken always reminded him of Hawaii back on Earth, where he had lived until he was eight, and his parents, both judge advocate generals, were assigned to the Douglas station. Same shining sands, same roar of the ocean. Even the smells were similar, the salt spray and the fragrances wafting from the rampant gardens of the nearby hotels. The only real difference were the two suns hanging in the sky. 

A group of Vulcans walked by, looking somber in their matching black swimsuits. Besides the Enterprise and the Defiance, there were also currently three ships from the Vulcan Science Academy in orbit. It was amusing how Vulcans were so quick to point out the superiority of their desert planet, but always took shore leave on planets like Rhoken.

There was a screech, and Steve looked back at the water, saw Xio come spluttering back to the surface. His girlfriend Chellea, a towering Capellan who worked in Security, was grinning down at him.

Steve made a mental note to talk to Captain Jyat of the Ticonderoga. The Ticonderoga was a diplomatic ship, and always needed experienced Security officers. They usually needed Quartermasters, too--and it would be a good advancement for Xio.

That’s when he noticed Danny. 

Danny was strolling along the beach, in a gray shirt and blue shorts. He had a drink in his hand, and he looked less than enthusiastic about being on R&R. Steve was beginning to wonder if Danny was a terraphobe. Some families had spent so many generations on space stations and in biospheres, they had lost the ability to feel comfortable in the wide open spaces of planets.

Danny turned, and saw him. He stopped, his gaze darting toward the group of Enterprise crew members in the water--then he started walking towards Steve. It was obvious he wasn’t sure quite what to do, after avoiding Steve for the past three days.

Steve made it easy for him, “You’re not swimming?”

“No, I’m not swimming.” He looked at the ocean as if it had personally affronted him. “Because I am an intelligent, rational, _sane_ person.”

Steve eyed Danny’s drink--a thick, blood-red fluid. “Says the guy drinking kanar.”

“It’s my mother’s preferred drink.” Danny shrugged. “Although, it tastes better mulled.”

 _Better?_ Steve had always considered Cardassian kanar to be a soupy over-fermented drink--he couldn’t imagine how much worse it would taste served hot, with spices. He jerked his head toward the chair next to him, and Danny sat, but stiffly--as if he had taken the gesture to be an order, rather than an invite.

“Your mom likes Klingon opera, drinks kanar, and has commanded a space station for thirty years.“ Steve took another swig of water, “And I thought having parents in JAG was hard.”

“My mom is a big believer in embracing the diversity of a space station.” Danny relaxed, and kicked back. “Although, I never quite got Ferengi art.”

Now there were two things Steve could’ve happily gone through life _not_ knowing about; mulled kanar and Ferengi art.

For a minute they sat there, watching both their crew, who was enjoying the water--and the Vulcans, who were pretending _not_ to enjoy the water.

Steve glanced over at Danny. “I owe you an apology.”

He froze, set his drink down. “No. No, you don’t.”

“Sure I do.” Steve gave him his best slow, lazy grin, “Next time I steal a loader, I’ll make sure to take one that doesn’t have a cracked solenoid.”

Danny stared at him for a second. “All right, we need to redefine the terms of our relationship--”

Steve’s grin widened, “Relationship?”

“Yes, relationship--and don’t change the subject. I like working with you, I really do, but one, we are _not_ having a conversation about what you’re going to steal next, and two, talking about next time, the next time you make plans to get yourself kidnapped--to get yourself _intentionally_ kidnapped--I, as your Second in Command, would like to be consulted _before_ said kidnapping.”

Steve couldn’t resist teasing him just a little, “So--you like working with me?”

“Really?” Danny threw out his hands, “That’s what you’re taking away from this?”

~~+~~  
**18\. USS Ariel/Gu’ya Home Planet (Prompt 20: Where did everybody go?)**

Danny hauled himself out of the bunk, trying to mentally prepare himself for yet another day. He reluctantly dragged on his uniform, then made his way through the deserted halls to the ship’s galley.

He punched up some raktajino, found the protein sticks. Made the mistake of drinking his first swig of his drink while looking at the empty mess hall. He resolutely turned around, ate two protein sticks, and then drank some more raktajino.

So---food. He scrounged through the gallery, wishing again for the Enterprise’s food replicators, even if the damn things didn’t really work all that well. He found some protein packs, tossed them in the oven. 

So, protein packs--and _more_ reconstituted vegetables? He pulled out a bag of veggies, added water. The oven beeped, ejected the protein packs. He tossed the food on the tray, and went over to the nearest turbo lift. 

Why the hell didn’t the ship’s banks have any Klingon opera?

Being on an empty ship sucked, but it would’ve sucked a little less if he could’ve piped Klingon opera music through the ship’s speaker system. Except, the USS Ariel didn’t have any Klingon opera in its banks.

_Figures._

Danny stepped out of the turbo lift and entered the tiny brig. Yep. The last five members of the ship’s crew were still accounted for. Three humans, one Tellarite, one Andorian. At least, that’s what the crew members had been, before the alien parasites had taken over.

Danny put the food and water in the slot, hastily stepped to the opposite side of the tiny brig. Once he was a safe distance, he hit the button that lowered the tray into the cell. 

One of the prisoners, a human, said something, but Danny ignored him. Until they figured out how the crew had become infected, it was better to be safe than sorry. 

Correction, until _he_ figured out how the crew had become infected. Danny was all alone on the USS Ariel--except of course, the five alien wannabes.

A few minutes later, he stepped onto the empty bridge. After five days, the silence shouldn’t have still bothered him. 

It did.

Danny stopped at the nav station, double-checked to see if the course to Telos was still plotted into the ship’s auto-pilot. Only three and half more days. At Telos, he could drop the ship and the survivors off with Starfleet, and head back to the Enterprise.

He just hoped his own crew--and what was left of their ship--had made it safely to Space Station 11. 

The Enterprise’s sensors had picked up the science ship USS Ariel five days ago--and everything had immediately gone to hell. They had no reason to suspect one of their own, and the Ariel had gotten off two photon torpedoes. Even worse, the crew on the Ariel had somehow retained enough of their memories to know how to cripple a starship.

Those two torpedoes knocked out the Enterprise’s warp drives, seventy percent of the life support systems, and left them with just enough juice in the transporter to beam one person over to the Ariel.

Lucky him.

Danny sighed, and sat down at the science station. He was slowly working his way through the ship’s logs, trying to piece together how the crew had become infected. Instead of opening another log, though, Danny found his mind going back to the Enterprise.

It didn’t make sense. 

Why had Steve let Danny beam over, instead of going over to the Ariel himself? Sure, he was supposed to be on restricted duty, but this was _Steve._

Also, why was there no Klingon opera music in the Ariel’s banks?

It was… weird.

And he was becoming paranoid after five days of listening to himself think.

Between his family, and living on a space station, and then the academy, and serving on Starfleet ships, he had never been _alone_ alone. The first day on the Ariel, Danny had actually thought he might enjoy having some peace and quiet, but...

Hell, he even missed Steve--and his hare-brained, idiotic craziness.

Danny ran a hand through his hair, and opened the first log, hit ‘play’. Made a face, because he was really, really sick of listening to the captain’s voice, which had a definite nasal twang. He twirled in his chair, trying not to notice the too empty bridge.

_What if this was some kind of mind trick by the parasites?_

He punched ‘stop’ on the log, and twirled again. 

_What if the aliens had hoodooed him, somehow?_

That actually made sense. At least, it made more sense then Captain Steve McGarrett actually following medical orders, and sending him over to the Ariel.

He sank back in the chair, looking at the silent, empty bridge. 

_What if this wasn’t real?_

The screen in front of him blipped. Danny stared at it, and then the whole bridge dissolved--and he was sitting on a heavy wooden bench in one of the chambers of Gu’yan High Council.

Danny remembered then. He and Steve, with a small team, had beamed down to negotiate a treaty with the Gu’yan. As if that was actually going to happen. Every five years or so the Gu’yan considered signing a treaty with the Federation--only to get cold feet and back out.

‘Signing the Gu’yan treaty’ was even academy slang for taking a class that was super hard to get good marks in.

Apparently, the Gu’yan High Council decided to change the script. They had been strolling through the gardens with the High Council, discussing the nuances of the treaty. High Council Member Finbur had stopped to ask Danny a question. He and Finbur had literally taken two steps off the path--

He’d been kidnapped--but he wasn’t hurt. Or restrained.

Weird.

Danny got to his feet, patting himself. Dammnit, no communicator.

_Where was the rest of the crew?_

_And how long had he been here?_

He was starving--starving as in skipped-lunch starving, not _starving_ starving.

So, it’d been just a few hours. Definitely _not_ five days.

Danny looked around the medieval-looking room. Stone walls, stone ceiling, wrought iron light fixtures, large--and extremely ugly--tapestry, and a big wooden door.

_Was this room even real?_

He examined it again. The ceiling was a hologram, not stone. It was a very good hologram, but the stone didn’t quite line up with the walls. 

Wait--was the tapestry also a hologram? 

Danny went over and banged on it. The tapestry flickered, then blipped off, as the hologram short-circuited. It was actually a viewing window--and he was being watched by five weird-looking tentacled creatures. 

They looked startled--well, as startled as tentacled creatures, with bulging compound eyes, could look.

“I’m First Officer Danny Williams of the USS Enterprise. Where is my crew?”

The middle creature waved its tentacles in--surprise? “They are unharmed. We do not harm sentient beings.” 

The creature sounded suspiciously like High Council Member Finbur. Wait, five tentacled creatures--five High Council Members. 

Apparently, the Gu’yan weren’t really bluish-gray bipeds?

“You’re not bipeds.”

“We are not, but your kind does not get along with our kind.” Finbur waved his--their?--tentacles again. He--it?--seemed agitated, and the other Council Members wrapped their tentacles around Finbur’s tentacles in an almost-caress.

Danny recalled something Captain Pike once told him about inter-species diplomacy. _’The more alien they look, the more you need to listen to them.’_

“Sounds like you’ve had some problems with my kind.” Danny kept his tone conversational. “Why don’t we sit down, grab a drink, and talk about it?”

Finbur regarded him with all six compound eyes, practically flapping all of his--its? --tentacles, before curling them around the tentacles of two of the other High Council Members. “A drink?”

Another of Pike’s pieces of diplomatic advice. _’Drinking is the universal translator. Every species has some kind of intoxicant.’_ “Sure. I understand your kind are partial to Vulcan brandy?”

“We are. But first, we require an explanation,” Finbur’s tentacles slithered all over the five other Council Members’ tentacles. “You shared food with the prisoners.”

Danny was beginning to suspect that along with ‘bipedal’, they were going to need to also erase ‘dislikes physical touch’ from the entry for Gu’yans. These guys were putting his own family to shame when it came to being touchy-feely. “Of course I fed them.”

Finbur appeared--baffled? “Your food sources were inadequate.”

“Yes, but--

“The prisoners were infected.”

“Yes, but--”

“The prisoners had harmed those of your ship.”

A thought occurred to Danny. The reason the Federation was willing to keep trying to negotiate was because everyone knew the Gu’yans always treated the negotiators to a large banquet. No Starfleet personnel ever passed up a free meal.

Had the Gu’yans staged this little charade because they were trying to puzzle out why Starfleet personnel never reciprocated? 

Danny quickly pulled up a mental list of their ship’s stores. What about those cases of ice cream they’d picked up at Space Station 11? It was certainly worth a shot. 

“Do you guys like ice cream?”

Finbur’s tentacles wrapped and unwrapped around one of the other High Council Member’s tentacles. “What is ice cream?”

“Give me back my communicator, and I’ll have some sent down.” He smiled when his communicator immediately appeared in one of Finbur’s tentacles. “Trust me, you haven’t lived until you’ve had some rocky road.”

~~+~~  
**19\. Gu’ya Home World ( Prompt 17: I did not see that coming with bonus! adverse reaction!)**

Steve stared at the really ugly tapestry on the wall. _Where the hell was Danny?_ It had been over _four_ hours.

A blush-gray Gu’yan woman walked into the banquet hall, and set down _another_ platter of food.

Steve started to get up, thought better about it. He pulled on his friendliest smile. “Excuse me.”

She smiled back. “Do you require more food?”

Steve glanced at the three tables, which were covered with dishes. “No, but I’d like to talk to my First Officer.”

The woman continued to smile. “He is with High Council Member Finbur.”

“I would still like to speak to him.” Steve tried to make his tone firm, but friendly.

“But he is with High Council Member Finbur.” She looked at the dishes on the table, back at him--and smiled again. “I will bring you more appetizers.”

She walked out, and Kono threw her arms up in frustration. “It’s been _four_ hours. We need to break him out.”

“We don’t know if he’s even in trouble.” Chin used his 'let’s be reasonable' tone, looked at Steve, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Steve said automatically. He wasn’t--he could feel himself flagging. He was still on restricted duty, which usually meant working half shifts and no planetary excursions. Max had only approved him for the negotiations with the Gu’yan because everyone knew it would be a short talk, followed by a banquet--followed by another four or five years of stalling.

Except the Gu’yans had decided to throw a self-sealing stem bolt into the works.

“The Gu’yan have always been most peaceful.” Chellea, tall even for a Capellan, poked at the platter the woman set down. “I have checked. The incidents of them terminating other species is currently at zero.”

“See? The Gu’yan aren’t going to kill him--probably.“ Pol, the other Security officer, and a heavy-set Lurian, snagged something green and crunchy from the platter. “Oh! It’s fried!”

“They’ve also never kidnapped anybody before.” Kono pointed out, “We need to rescue him.”

Normally, Steve would’ve agreed with her. It’d been four hours and he had no idea where Danny was, or even if he was safe. But as Chellea had said, the Gu’yans were well known for being pacifists--and he was pretty certain starting a diplomatic incident with pacifists would be viewed by Starfleet Command as right up there with breaking the Prime Directive.

Pol munched another green crunchy thing. “You should try one of these. They’re very good.”

Kono opened her mouth to say something, then jumped to her feet when the door opened. “Danny!”

Steve sagged with relief.

Kono hugged Danny, and he hugged her back. “Um, thanks. I missed you, too.”

She punched him, “We were worried--uh, what happened to your hand?”

“Turns out I’m allergic to Gu’yan slime. But--” Danny glanced down his right hand, which was covered in a red, nasty looking rash, before giving them all a wide smirk, “I got them to sign the treaty.”

“You’re serious?” Chin moved the platter away from Pol, and stood up. “They signed the treaty?”

“Yep. Turns out they were waiting for us to share _our_ food.” He paused, “We’re, uh, going to need to pick up more ice cream.”

Chin stared at him, “That was a three month supply of ice cream.”

“What can I say? The Gu’yans really like ice cream.” Danny looked very, very pleased with himself, “Oh, and we have to deliver two cases of Neapolitan, two cases of rocky road, two cases of strawberry, and eight cases of butter pecan every six months, along with a crate of Vulcan brandy.”

Steve marshalled the last of his energy, and pushed himself to his feet. Waved away Chellea who took a step towards him. “I’m confused--”

“I know, right?” Danny nodded, “Who likes butter pecan more than rocky road?” 

“Actually," Steve eyed Danny's hand, which was definitely swelling, "let’s go back to 'Gu’yan slime'.”

“Well, you see--” Danny stopped, “Never mind, I think it will make more sense if I just explain in my report. But the entire file that Starfleet has complied on the Gu’yan? Yeah, we can just toss that.” He raised his right hand, “Can we leave? This is really starting to itch.”

“Enterprise?” Chin pulled out his communicator as he jerked his head towards Steve. Steve could feel Chellea suddenly looming over him. “Six to beam up."

~~+~~


	5. A Good Use for Kanar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In some Romulan dictionaries, kahel means knife or blade, though I don’t think it’s been ever been used officially as the word for a Romulan dagger.

~~+~~  
**20\. Rigellian Outpost - Ikros IX (Prompt 18: Panic at the disco.With Bonus! Drugged! and Hidden Injury!)**

Danny finished his drink, and circled back to the open bar. One of the Orions lowered her eyes, gave him a sultry smile, “What do you need?”

“Another drink. Kanar, please.”

“Kanar.” The Orion turned grumpy, and it took her a moment of rummaging to find the bottle. She set the glass down in front of him, eyed the thick liquid with distaste, then turned, and gave the next guest an equally sultry smile. “And what can I get you?”

They were serving top shelf stuff, and Danny took a second, bigger, swallow as he forced himself to walk back to the small group of Enterprise crew members. Today was Matty’s birthday, and he really didn’t feel like socializing. 

Which meant, of course, he was stuck at a diplomatic shindig, with Steve, Chin, Kono, Lou, _and_ four security officers; Betancourt, the willowy Californian who was their Chief Security Officer, along with Chellea, Pol, and Junior. Because there was a _slight_ possibility the Romulans _might_ pull something.

Danny wasn’t convinced. Ambassador Quenn has been a thorn in the side of the Romulans for more than ten years, and the Ambassador’s visits to this quadrant had always gone smoothly.

He took another appreciative swallow--and stopped.

_Fuck._

He was on duty--and this was his _second_ glass.

Things had gotten dicey the first year Matty had gone missing. Danny could admit that to himself--and this was one habit he did _not_ want to fall back into. He walked over to the group, setting the drink down on a nearby table as nochantly as he could. 

Chin turned, “First Officer Danny Williams, this is Captain Jyat of the Ticonderoga. She, Steve, and Clay all served together on the USS Nairobi.”

Danny found it telling how the bridge crew kept finding ways to insert Clay’s name into conversations. It was clear the recent anniversary of his death was weighing heavily on everyone’s minds--and a reminder Danny wasn’t the only one who had lost somebody.

“Just call me Danny.” He managed to find a smile as he offered the back of his hand to Jyat, a gray-haired Cappellan who towered over them--although she wasn’t quite as tall as Chellea. “Where is Steve, anyway?”

Jyat’s hand tapped his, her eyes approving of his use of a Cappellan greeting instead of human. “He and my Chief of Security--” 

Someone screamed.

They all whirled, and the party turned to chaos as panicked guests stampeded towards the exits.

“Betancourt, Junior, stay with Quenn, no matter what. Chin, get an ion jammer down here, now--nobody beams in or out. Chellea, Pol, protect the guests.” Danny barked orders, then ran after Jyat, with Lou and Kono on his heels.

There were more screams, and he saw an Andorian diplomat fall, in a pool of dark blue blood.

Dammit. Where was the outside security detail--

Oh fuck.

The woman who’d just stabbed the Andorian was wearing a Starfleet security uniform. Her face and neck veins were bulging, her pupils completely blown. She looked at the dead Andorian, then Danny, with a baffled look--and collapsed.

“Fucking fire spice.” Danny muttered, at the same time Jyat stepped forward to check on the Andorian.

Another member of the security detail snarled, and sprang at her. Danny grabbed Jyat, yanking her under the nearest banquet table. The knife thunked against the table and something inside Danny snapped. He rolled, kicked up, heard a satisfying grunt as the table slammed into his opponent. 

His outstretched hand slid in something--that citrus-like Geron fruit stuff. Danny picked up a handful, threw it in the guy’s face. His growl turned into a scream, and he dropped the knife, clawing at his eyes. 

Danny grabbed the knife, scrambled to his feet, bringing the blade up in a killing--

“Danny! No!” Kono shouted.

He managed, barely, to change the direction of the swing, and then twisted his hand. The hilt hit the side of the guy’s head hard, with a loud, sickening thunk, and he collapsed, falling forward. 

_Shit._ Danny hastily handed the knife to Jayat, already scanning the room. Two more members of the security detail were still hunting guests--and so was Steve. 

Danny saw the feral look in Steve’s eyes, the bloody knife in his hand--and his heart sank. Then he realized the Tellarite at Steve’s feet was still trying to crawl away. Danny didn’t think; he just charged. He tackled Steve, and they both went down, slipping and sliding in the muck of blood and spilled food.

Steve growled, lunging forward with the knife, and Danny twisted, but wasn’t quite fast enough. The knife sliced into his shoulder, just as Danny brought a knee up, catching Steve in the ribs. Steve grunted, stabbed wildly down, and Danny swore as the knife blade bit deep into his arm. 

Fuck-shit-fuck. He kneed Steve again, then cussed as the knife plunged deep into his shoulder. Damnit. He should’ve kept that fucking knife--

Danny saw his drink. It was still sitting on one of the two still upright tables.

_The shock of killing somebody generally broke fire spice’s hold on the mind--_

He grabbed Steve and rolled, swinging his leg out.The blade of the knife sank into his side, just as the table crashed down, blood-red kanar splashing over him and Steve. Danny closed his eyes, went limp--and a second later, Steve collapsed, half on top of him.

Danny lay there, sucking in air. Fuck. He _hated_ fucking fire spice. He shoved Steve off of him, sat up. Checked Steve’s pulse--rapid, but steady. 

He didn’t envy Steve the headache he was going to have when he woke up. Danny had never been slipped fire spice, but a couple of his ship mates had. One eventually committed suicide, because she couldn’t live with herself afterwards.

He sucked in another breath. The other two members of the security detail were also down. Chellea was standing over one, Kono and Jayat were standing over the other.

Chief Security Officer Betancourt strode into the hall a moment later, along with a Rigelian male, one of Ambassador Quenn’s bodyguards. He made a beeline toward Danny. “How did you know?” 

Danny was dimly aware of the pain starting to creep in. Mostly, he was just very, very tired. He’d transferred to the Honolulu because he’d wanted to get away from the border and the USS New Jersey. He no longer liked--or even trusted--the person he became when he was working the Romulan border. And yet, somehow, between Matty, and now rescuing Adam _and_ Ambassador Quenn--it felt like the border kept finding him.

“Let me guess.” He considered standing up, decided it seemed like way too much effort. And his side was really beginning to hurt. “The Orion bartenders were mercs, and they dosed the security detail with fire spice as a distraction, so they could kidnap the Ambassador.”

The Rigelian’s mouth dropped. “How did you--”

“Because I know how Romulans think, and because I screwed up.” It dawned on Danny he was cold, and he was pretty sure that wasn’t a good sign. The pain in his side ratcheted up another notch. “I should’ve immediately recognized the Orion was a Pather--she was trying way too hard.”

The Rigelian gave him a baffled look, “A… Pather?”

“Most Orions are into pleasure, but a few take the second path--they are really, really into pain. Most Pathers work as mercs for the Romulans.” Yeah, he was definitely going into shock--he could feel himself starting to shake. He tried his best to ignore the cold, sharp pain in his side, gave the Rigellian a weary smile, “Why not get paid to do what you love?”

“Danny?” Lou stepped into his line of sight. “You want to belay that order about the ion jammer? We need to get medical down here.”

Danny swung his gaze back to the Rigelian. “The Ambassador’s safe?” The bodyguard nodded. “All right, turn off the jammer. Tell the Ticonderoga we’re handling triage--the Enterprise has a more advanced sickbay.” 

“Good to see somebody has finally found a use for kanar.” Chin, calm as always, with Kono right behind him. Chin leaned over, offered Danny his hand, while Kono continued to eye him warily.

Danny tried to wave Chin’s hand away, only to realize his arm didn’t want to move. “I think I’d better wait for medical.” 

“You’re hurt?” 

Danny wanted to answer--but the room did an odd little tilt-spin, and then everything slid into darkness.

~~+~~  
**21\. USS Enterprise (Prompt 30: Now where did that come from/internal organ injury)**

Something grabbed his arm.

Danny struggled awake, trying to claw at--

“Danny.” Steve’s hand was on his chest, “Danny, relax. It’s just a hydration pump.”

He blinked, felt the cool slick surface of a hydration pump under his fingers. He dropped his right hand, noticed Steve’s worried face. “Hey. How’s the head?”

“Good.” Steve sat back down. From the way he was squinting even in the dimmed lighting, he clearly wasn’t. “Max gave me something. Look, Danny, I--”

“Don’t. You can’t fight fire spice.” Danny stared at the sickbay ceiling for a long moment. There was a burning ache in his side and left shoulder that meant he’d spent some time in the tissue regenerator--and what idiot had decided to pump in the smell of forest? It was _creepy_. “The security guy--is he all right?” 

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. “He’ll make a full recovery--and so will the Tellarite I stabbed.” He leaned forward, dropped his elbows on his knees. “At least Command’s happy--the Ambassador sent Starfleet a personal thank you.”

Danny turned his head. He started to reach out, but Steve’s hand was already there, closing around Danny’s hand. “What we really need to talk about is your technique with a kaleh. It was atrocious. No, it was beyond atrocious--there aren’t even words for how atrocious it was. What were you trying to do, clean a fish?”

Steve jerked his head up--and then he gave a small huff of laughter. His grip tightened. ”Clean fish? Danny, you don’t even like to be outside.”

“I like to be outside just fine,” Danny kept his voice soft in respect for Steve’s headache, “as long as I am not getting shot at, or javelined, or dumped in the ocean--and we aren’t talking about me, we’re talking about you. A kaleh is a melee weapon, it requires a certain finesse--never mind, what I’m thinking? You more of the is-a-disruptor-really-going-to-be-enough sort of guy.”

Steve was smiling now, and his fingers laced through Danny’s fingers. “I’ll have you know I’m actually pretty good at cleaning fish.”

~~+~~  
**22\. USS Enterprise (Alt 10: Nightmares with Bonus! Bed sharing!)**

The soft ping of the alarm woke Steve. He slid out of bed, threw a shirt on, re-tied the drawstring of his sweats. Then he went down the hall to Danny’s quarters, rapped on the doors.

They opened to a grumbling Danny, “You set my room to spy on me.”

Steve thought about pointing out Danny had done the same thing to him, decided against it. He waited for the doors to shut behind him, “You’re not sleeping.”

Danny rubbed a hand through hair already sleep-mussed, and Steve could practically see Danny struggling not to lie to him. 

“Just another bad dream.” Danny’s voice was tight with reluctance to admit that much. “Kermit’s already put me on something different, but he says it’ll take a few days to kick in.”

The exhaustion in Danny’s voice was more than just a couple of nights of missed sleep. Steve had heard a few tall tales over the years about the USS New Jersey and its captain--he was beginning to wonder just how many of those stories were a little closer to the truth than people wanted to believe. His parents had been JAG--he knew Starfleet didn’t always toe the line, especially when it came to dealing with the Klingons and Romulans.

He shucked off his shirt, slid in, and patted the mattress. More than once, he and Clay had bunked together--nothing sexual, just the need to have another person there after a bad day. And it wasn’t like he and Danny hadn’t already shared a bed.

Danny turned, stared at the doors--then Steve. He ran his fingers through his hair again. Finally walked over to the bed, grousing. “Might as well give the crew something else to talk about other than Lou and Betancourt.”

“Bentancourt just likes Lou’s open bar.” Steve ordered the lights off.

The bed dipped as Danny got in, stretched out beside him. “You’re not supposed to know about that.”

Steve laughed, because he could probably list a dozen things that the crew didn’t think he knew about. “Go to sleep, Danny.”

“You’re ordering me to sleep?" Danny grumbled, but a few minutes later, his breathing evened out. 

Steve lay there for a while, listening to Danny breath, his first officer a solid, warm weight next to him, until sleep finally carried him under.

~~+~~  
**23\. Draken IV (Alt 11: Presumed dead)**

Although it was early morning, it was already _hot_. The double suns blazed down, and Steve’s undershirt was struggling to wick away his sweat. What really made it really miserable, though, was having to wear a rebreather _with_ a bio filter.

The planet’s air had checked out, but it was better to be safe than sorry. The ship’s scans had found evidence of what had once been a good-sized settlement, now just imprints of foundations in the planet’s dry, dusty soil. The faint lines on the images yielded no clues as to who the settlers had been--or more importantly, why they’d abandoned the site.

Steve packed yet _another_ container of samples; half-listening to Science Officer Jenna Kaye and Second Science Officer Jeff Morrison as they tried to chatter about anomalies through their rebreathers, while they chipped more red rock off the low sandstone ridge.

Although true terraforming hadn’t yet been mastered, most space going races had developed a few tricks to make planets more inhabitable, from introducing certain plants, to pumping in chemicals to address air issues. This was Jenna’s baby, a five-year comprehensive study of these methods, based on data from both inhabited and uninhabited planets.

He began to hear the sound of Danny complaining. Steve smiled to himself, because only Danny could bitch through a rebreather. He glanced up, saw Danny and Kono working their way down the ridge. 

Kono had seemed more… wary of Danny since Ikros IX. Steve had sent the two to take samples together, hoping they would regain their footing with each other. From Danny’s grousing and Kono’s easy grin, his plan had worked.

Kono swung her container onto one of the containers Steve had just sealed. Shouted through her rebreather, “I managed to keep him from getting poisoned by anything-- this time.”

“One time.” Danny set down a second sample case, and threw out his arms, “It happened one time--”

There was a sudden loud snick as Jeff’s pickaxe sank into the rock.

Danny grabbed Jenna, Kono grabbed Jeff, pushing them to the ground in one synchronized movement. Steve dove behind a stack of containers. 

“Hey!” Jeff’s voice was muffled by the rebreather, and the fact Kono was mostly on top of him. “It’s a secret tunnel!”

They sorted themselves out, got to their feet. A red square of rock had swung up, revealing a tunnel wide enough for two people to easily walk abreast. The walls and floor were rough, but shiny.

“Early blaster technology?” Jeff scrutinized the tunnel.

“Maybe?” Jenna grabbed her tricorder, “The process was hot enough to turn some of the stone to quartzite.”

Steve glanced sideways at Kono, “Well, I guess we’d better see where it goes.”

Kono picked up her own tricorder, fighting hard not to smile. “Right behind you, Captain.”

“Seriously? You’re just going to saunter down a hole in the ground, that leads to who knows where---” Danny stopped when Kono lost it, began laughing. “Very funny, you two.”

Steve shot Danny a grin, then swung his attention to Jeff. “Is the new code ready on the E.D.D.I.?”

“More than ready.” Jeff opened his communicator. A moment later, the E.D.D.I. unit materialized, along with a tripod, in a transporter beam.

This was Jeff’s project--improving Starfleet’s Environmental Data Scan and Digital Imaging Unit. Starfleet’s E.D.D.I. units were right up there with replicators for being a headache to use, and needing constant maintenance. Jeff had stripped an E.D.D.I. of its all terrain-wheels and chassis, then stuffed the guts in a home security robot, one of those vaguely dog-shaped ones. After two years of tinkering with the code, E.D.D.I. worked, mostly. 

Jenna set up the tripod, mounted a tricorder and a small monitor to it, punched up the night vision mode.

Jeff turned on the unit, patted its clunky head, “All right, E.D.D.I., go scan.”

They crowded around the tripod, watching the different camera angles as E.D.D.I. trotted down the dark corridor. For a while, it was boring--nothing but the scooped out rock walls, and the tunnel, going ever deeper. Then about a click and a half down, the tunnel opened into a large room. 

The sweep of E.D.D.I.’s cameras caught something metal.

Jenna thumbed the modified controls on the tricorder and E.D.D.I. began turning, doing a slow 360 degree scan of what looked to be a natural cave. Along the walls were stasis units--and there was a mummified face behind each unit’s viewing window.

Steve froze, watching in silent horror. On the really bad days, there was a nightmare that chased him. Their ship, broken, crippled, adrift; life support failing, his crew dying around him, as the unending cold and blackness of space seeping in--

This was his nightmare, poured into reality. Whatever had gone wrong on the surface, the settlers must've thought help was coming. Instead, their stasis units had slowly ran out of power and air, and one by one, they had died in the dark, buried under a mountain of rock.

The other four said nothing, watching as E.D.D.I. spun around in the middle of what was a mass grave, filled with dozens of dead--

“Boss?” Kono leaned forward. Jenna had seen it too, and stopped E.D.D.I., so she could refocus the cameras.

One of the stasis units was still activated, its green lights glowing in the black night of the cave.

~~+~~  
**24\. USS Enterprise (Prompt 16: A terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day)**

“I understand, sir.” Steve ended the communication, rocked back in his chair. He stared at the wall, feeling the crushing weight of command on his shoulders.

The seventy-six settlers had been Vulcans. Only one, a child, had survived. She was in a medically-induced coma, and Max thought it would be a week, maybe more, before her body would begin to recover from the damage of a failing stasis unit. But the doctor was confident she would live.

Today should’ve been cause for a celebration--one small miracle in what was a horrible tragedy.

The Vulcans didn’t agree. The Enterprise had, unwittingly, uncovered a sordid chapter of Vulcan history. Vulcans usually painted themselves as altruistic, a species that had reached out to other space-going species--thus founding the Federation.

Apparently, not all Vulcans had embraced the same ideals. 

In a way, Steve’s entire life--and the lives of his crew--only existed because the Vulcans had done the ‘logical’ thing when they exiled the most vocal dissenters to the formation of the Federation. The settlers had been one of those exiled groups. When the twin suns above their world had gone into a joint cycle of extreme solar activity, they had done the only thing possible--sent a distress signal, and buried themselves in the deep cool of the cave.

A distress signal intentionally ignored by other Vulcans.

Even now, Vulcans saw nothing wrong in their actions. The exiles had forfeited their right to be Vulcans--and therefore they had also forfeited their right to aid from their home planet. The Enterprise’s rescue of one six-year old girl, therefore, was a major diplomatic incident.

Steve’s orders were clear. 

Draken IV had already been flagged by Command as an extreme bio-hazard, a planet too dangerous to ever be approached again. The tunnel was to be permanently sealed, the samples they’d taken were to be destroyed, and all mention of Draken IV in the ship’s records was to be encrypted and sealed. 

As for the child, the name written so carefully on her stasis tube was to be expunged from the Enterprise’s data banks. She was to be taken to Star Base XIV, to be processed and renamed--a non-Vulcan name--at one of the refugee camps.

Steve thought about the bodies in the stasis units--about his orders to consign fifty-four adults and twenty-one children to darkness and oblivion. He couldn’t directly disobey orders, but he could at least fight for the one sole survivor--and there was one other person on the ship who would be willing to fight for her, too. 

Steve hauled himself to his feet, walked out of the ready room. 

Danny turned, and then immediately sought out Chin, standing over at the secondary nav sation. “Chin? The bridge is yours.”

Danny waited for the turbo lift doors to close. “What’s wrong?”

”New orders.” Here in the privacy of the turbo lift, Steve let himself slump, and Danny’s hand landed on the small of his back, “I’ll explain in sickbay.” 

The doors opened, and Danny dropped his hand as Steve straightened his shoulders. 

He saw Nurse Mlln. “Where’s Bergman?”

She was fussing over Ensign Jones, who was clutching her right arm. Nurse Mlln pointed, “Second med-chamber.”

Max was standing outside the chamber, watching the girl’s vital signs. They had shaved off the girl’s tangled mess of hair. With her shorn head, and in a too big medical gown, she looked impossibly tiny and frail on the medbed.

Steve studied her face for a moment, the delicate arch of her eyebrows, and the pointed sweep of her ears. “How’s she doing?”

“Vulcans have a remarkable physiology.” Max glanced again at the diagnostic screen, and smiled, “I am cautiously optimistic.”

“I need to talk to you. Privately.”

“Of course, Captain.” Max trotted toward his office. He sat down behind his desk, nodded at Steve. “How can I assist you?”

Steve waited until the doors closed, then he gave a brief rundown of his new orders. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Danny’s jaw clench in anger as he listed what Command wanted done.

When Steve finished, Max folded his hands neatly on his desk. “I understand you have your orders, Captain, but I am still Chief Medical Officer. I cannot release my patient to Star Base XIV, or to any other refugee processing center, until I have been assured they can comprehensively address all of her medical needs--and I cannot know what those needs may be until she is awake and properly evaluated, which could take several weeks.”

Max’s voice was quiet, but firm. It was the same tone that had so effectively blocked Starfleet from removing Clay from the Enterprise again and again. “Also, while I do not wish to put you in a difficult position, we need to be aware of the child’s long term psychological needs. If Star Base XIV does not have somebody who can speak Vulcan as fluently as Nurse Milln, then I cannot, in good consciousness, allow her placement at their facility, or in fact, any other facility.”

Danny rocked back on his heels, crossed his arms, and shot Steve an impressed look. It was a brilliant, but reasonable, objection--and Vulcans didn’t utilize Starfleet refugee centers, so the chances of any of the centers’ having staff that spoke fluent Vulcan was slim, at best.

“All right, keep me apprised on how the evaluation is going.” Steve held Max’s gaze. “If we cannot find a center that’s a suitable placement for her, I will bring the matter up with Admiral Noshimuri.”

“I will send you daily updates, Captain.” Max unfolded his hands. “Also, Nurse Mlln made an observation earlier about the child’s name that I think might prove helpful. The girl’s name means ‘inward strength or decorum in adverse circumstances.’ Perhaps we could call her Grace?”

~~+~~  
**25\. USS Enterprise (Alt 13: Accident)**

“Any pain?” Nurse Mlln patted Danny on the shoulder.

“Not any more.” Danny shook his head, “Is, uh, this going to take long? I’m supposed to have lunch with the captain.”

“It's a greenstick fracture, so it shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.” She checked the regenerator, then patted Danny on the shoulder again. “Just relax, and I’ll be back in a bit to check on you.”

Danny nodded, staring ruefully down at his left arm--which was in a regenerator for the _second_ time in less than a month. He and Kono had been sparring, and he’d landed wrong, breaking his wrist. Kono was never going to let him live this down--

He felt somebody looking at him. He looked over his shoulder, saw Grace.

She stood in the doorway, solemnly regarding him. Her hair was little more than stubble, which only seemed to emphasize the tilt of her eyebrows, and the elegant points of her ears. She was wearing one of Chellea’s shirts, a bright orange swirl of fabric, now modified into a cute ankle-long dress. 

Although, Danny had never thought “Vulcan” and “cute” were two words that would ever go together.

Steve had enough on his plate, so Danny had taken on the problem of Grace. For the past two weeks, he and Max had run interference with Starfleet, determined to keep Grace onboard until a suitable home could be found for her. Not that he personally saw Grace as a problem. He found her adorable--in a prickly, Vulcan sort of way.

You are injured.” She mispronounced ‘injured”, her tongue stumbling on the ‘j’, and she continued to regard him with a cool expression--but Danny could see a note of something else in her eyes.

“Yeah, well,” He swept his good hand towards the tissue regenerator, gave her a reassuring smile. “Kermit is fixing me up.”

She stepped closer to look at the replicator, and it was obvious that natural curiosity had won out over her need to be aloof. “That is not the doctor’s name.”

“No, it’s a nickname.” He smiled again when one eyebrow canted upward. Her expression was a mirror of the one he had often seen on Satak, a Vulcan instructor at the academy. “Humans like to give each other nicknames. It’s a...well, it's a sign we care for each other.”

She gave a brief nod, as if his answer was satisfactory. “The regenerator--how does it work?”

“It gives our cells an extra boost of energy. Human cells are capable of some regeneration--um, that means the cells can heal themselves. We also have special cells in our blood, that aid the healing process.”

Grace studied the screen of the regenerator, tilted her head towards him. “Does it hurt?” 

“Mostly, it just itches.” Danny guessed she was bored. She’d been given the run of the ship, as long as a crew member was with her--but how much was there really for a kid to do on a spaceship?

Nurse Mlln stopped in the doorway, “How are we doing?”

“His blood pressure is elevated.” Grace volunteered.

Danny grinned, because Grace used the exact inflections Max would’ve used. “I’ve got an idea. If we can get Nurse Mlnn to spring you, you can go down to the space station, have lunch with me and the captain.”

There was a split-second of excitement in her eyes, and then she was aloof all over again. “Explain the coll--collock--”

“Colloquialism.” Danny’s grin widened, “In this case, ‘spring’ means to set you free so you can have lunch.”

Grace turned, folding her arms behind her back--an odd little mannerism that Danny had come to recognize as her way of dealing with an uncertain situation. “In that case, I would like to be set free, Nurse--” Grace paused, said something in Vulcan.

Nurse Mlln flapped her arms, and when she spoke, her voice was full of affection. “Of course you can go to lunch with the captain, Grace.”

It took another second for Danny to catch up, but then he got it. Grace had just give Nurse Mlln a nickname. 

Huh.

~~+~~


	6. Dark Caves and Refrigeration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hoping to post the last six prompts today, but I had a slightly busier weekend than I expected--ah, the joys of living in a 20 year old tin can. So, just three prompts today, and then I will post the other three this weekend.
> 
> In TOS, it was established that despite the Enterprise’s size, there was only 430-450 personnel aboard. Fans have long speculated that the Enterprise’s large size was designed to allow it to easily take on diplomats, refugees, or even rescue another ship’s crew. (TNG had a much, much bigger ship with 1100 personnel)
> 
> As far as I can tell, the Vulcan word for ‘anchor’ is not listed in any of the fan-run dictionaries, but Dah’noh literally translates as “most fixed point”. Claiming author’s prerogative on this :)

~~+~~  
**26\. USS Enterprise (Prompt 19: Broken Hearts/Grief)**

An intense, aching sadness yanked Danny from sleep. He rolled over, blinking, then stumbled to his feet, pulling on a shirt and a pair of sweats. His mind started to wake up as he stepped into the hall--and as he became more alert, the emotions flooding through him lessened, became more muddled.

Danny got into the turbolift, closed his eyes, and the sadness strengthened just a bit. Danny still had no idea what the hell he was doing, but he did his best to think, **I’m here.**

It seemed to help?

The sadness changed, more muted, with a questioning note. He tried once more, **I’m here.** The emotions shifted again, settled into a sad, needy sort of...cry?

After the third day--well, night--of this, Danny was still fumbling, trying to sort out this weird curveball he’d been thrown.

Max, of course, thought this was all ‘normal’. Grace was a Vulcan child. She saw Danny and Nurse Mlln as her caregivers. Vulcan children formed telepathic bonds with their caregivers, and since Nurse Mlln’s race had no psi abilities, that left Danny as the obvious choice. 

It was ‘wuh tepul t'wuh kashek’ --the power of the Vulcan mind, and a mouthful to try to say.

Apparently, this was a known thing. During the Sujil War, orphaned Betazoid children had done something similar, forcing telepathic bonds onto their human caregivers. Max had even worked out where it most likely happened--three days ago, on the space station. 

After lunch, Danny and Steve had taken Grace to the observation deck. She’d been fascinated by all the ships, but since she still didn’t have the stamina to walk far, the easy solution had been for Danny to place her on his shoulders. 

Prolonged physical contact with a grieving Vulcan child. Looking back now, Danny realized that he’d already been experiencing some of Grace’s emotions with her that day.

The turbo lift doors opened, and Danny sprinted past the third watch nurses, and into Grace’s room. She was huddled under a blanket, and when she saw him, she held her hands up, palms out. 

This time, he knew what to do. 

Danny sat down cross-legged on the bed, pressed his palms against her palms. Raw, fresh grief flooded in, and he closed his eyes as his own grief for Matty welled up, met hers. They mourned together, but Danny also tried his best to impress on Grace that these feelings--the sadness, the hurt, the anger--were perfectly normal.

Eventually Grace’s emotions changed, becoming a soft, rolling sadness, and her thoughts turned sleepy and fuzzy. Danny opened his eyes. He could feel his own face was wet with tears, and Grace had one single tear running down her cheek 

He brushed it away with his thumb. “Come on, you need to go to sleep.”

He got up, stiff from sitting cross-legged for so long. By the time he pulled the blankets up, Grace was already fast asleep. He stood there for a long moment, memorizing the delicate lines of her face, the high arches of her cheekbones, the adorable pointed ears. 

And--he was off shift tomorrow. He glanced at the time on the diagnostic display--or, more accurately, today. Danny dragged the chair sitting in the corner over, and sat down. 

He was still getting used to the oddness of the ship’s sick bay. The Enterprise’s medical section had been designed under the guidelines of Starfleet’s latest kick, ‘restorative medicine’. Muted ‘planetary’ colors of greens and browns, piped-in aromatherapy, plenty of comfortable chairs to encourage friends and family to hang out. 

It was odd, but… nice.

He stretched out his legs, settling back into the super soft antimicrobial fabric that seemed to cover half of sickbay, and watched Grace sleep--

“First Officer Williams?” 

Danny woke to Max’s soft whisper, and the smell of raktajino. He blinked, wearily pushed himself to his feet, and took the mug. He was careful to speak quietly, so as not to wake Grace.“Thanks, Kermit.”

“You’re welcome.” Max’s mouth quirked up at the nickname. “She called out to you, again?”

“Yes, but this time, I was able to calm her down.” Danny half-stifled a yawn as it dawned on him that that last night he’d calmed Grace fairly easily--now he knew what was happening. He’d even been able to ‘tell’ Grace these feelings were normal--maybe he was being too human, but he was _not_ going to encourage the stoicism that Vulcans were so well known for.

“You are making progress then--excellent.” Max studied the diagnostic screen for a moment, gave a small nod of satisfaction. “Can I speak to you in my office?”

“Sure.” Danny took a second, bigger swallow, in the vain hope the caffeine would wake him up. He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in three days, and he was beyond tired.

Max trotted to his office, and Danny followed more slowly, wondering what dick move Starfleet Command was trying now. They had reached an impasse--the Vulcans continued to insist Grace was not a Vulcan, and Max continued to insist he would not allow her to be placed anywhere that could not meet her physical and psychological needs _as_ a Vulcan.

“I have done some research on the Betazoid children I mentioned.” Max sat down, folded his hands on his desk. “Their caregivers were able to successfully petition for adoption, based on the telepathic bonding.”

 _Grace could stay with him?_

Danny dropped wearily into the nearest chair, feeling a sudden flare of hope--and then reality crashed in. “I would have to leave Starfleet.”

“I do not think so. Starfleet’s policy towards families is changing. Captain Norwood petitioned successfully to keep her children with her, and there are at least three other cases of ‘necessary accommodations’ being made.”

“Yeah?” Danny was surprised--but it made sense.

The older ships were small. On the USS New Jersey, the ship had barely enough room for the crew, and even officers triple-bunked. The new Constitution-class starships were enormous, and designed to be multifunctional--Starfleet was finally retiring the battered fleet of retrofitted freighters it used for rescue and humanitarian aid. The Enterprise could carry 1500 passengers, beyond her complement of 430 personnel. 

“I will mention the telepathic bond in my next report, but I believe both the petition of adoption and the ‘necessary accommodation’ request will need to go through the captain.” Max paused, “I apologize; I cannot be more definite than that. There does not appear to be a formal process for either--at the present time.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re the first CMO I’ve had that actually eats, talks, and shits the Hippocratic Oath--” Danny stopped, as his tired brain caught up with what he’d just said. “Um, Kermit, what I mean is--”

“A rather odd compliment,” Max smiled at him, “but very much appreciated. Thank you, First Officer Williams.”

~~+~~  
**27\. Ergon V (prompt 26: If you thought head trauma was bad… with bonus! trapped!)**

And now? It was snowing.

Danny glared at the sky, as he filled up another sample container with ice core samples. Sure, he wasn’t really cold--he had a thermal pack on under his thick coat--but it was the principle of the thing.

“Let me, guess,” Steve shot him a smile, as he hauled a couple more containers of samples out of the cave, stacked them. “You don’t like snow.”

“No, I don’t like snow. You know what’s the only thing worse than water? _Frozen_ water.“ Danny closed the container, locked the lid, and thumbed the cooling unit on. “Just how many ice samples did we take?”

“All of them.” Cadet Huol stared glumly at the ice samples he was packing. He had been even less enthusiastic than Danny about today’s plan of ‘let’s sample a whole lot of frozen shit’. Huol’s symbiote, a small green worm-looking thing, chittered unhappily, and retreated further into the depths of Houl’s hood.

“At least it’s not rocks.” Kono started to head back into the cave for the last container. 

Steve waved her away, “I got it.”

That’s when Danny heard it. A loud rumble above them. He didn’t think, just barreled into Steve, knocking him back into the cave. They hit the cave floor hard, in a tangle of limbs. Danny heard Steve’s head smack the rock--just as an avalanche of snow crashed down over the cave entrance.

He rolled off, blinking in the sudden darkness. “Steve?”

No answer.

He fumbled in his tricorder case, found his tricorder, thumbed on the small light. “Steve?”

Steve sat up with a grunt, rubbing the back of his head.

Danny’s shoulders sagged in relief--and then he remembered the cave's rock was laced with corbomite. Which was a natural jammer for both teleportation and communication.

_Fuck._

“Come on, let me take a look.” Danny set the tricorder on the floor, its small beam creating a tiny circle of light in the gloom. He got to his feet, wincing because he’d slammed his left knee against the cave floor. He helped Steve up, then tried to steer him over to the container.

Steve batted his hand away, “I’m good.”

“Steve, sit.” Danny sat down himself, patted the container. “We’ll have to wait for them to dig us out, anyway.”

Steve hesitated, then parked himself next to Danny. The container was barely big enough and Steve was pressed directly against him. Danny didn’t like the sound of Steve’s breathing; too fast, too shallow. “How’s your head?”

“I’m good.” Steve repeated. He didn’t sound like he was in pain, just… on edge, jumpy. 

Danny studied him. In the dim light, the shadows highlighted the hollows of Steve’s face. Danny was reminded of how Steve had looked when he’d taken the First Officer position on the Enterprise three--no, four and half months ago. Steve had seemed a little too thin, a little too worn down. 

Danny understood why now--Steve had been shouldering too much. The last two First Officers had been self-centered assholes, and before that, he was dealing with Clay’s illness. Although, Danny secretly wondered if Clay’s death had been much, much harder on Steve than he let on.

He wasn’t entirely convinced Steve had ever truly recovered from all that happened when he was fifteen. His mom had died in a training accident, and Steve and his sister were packed off to a boarding school. Six months later, JAG John McGarrett and forty-seven others had died in the attack on the Douglas Station.

And he’d been so preoccupied with Grace these past few weeks, he hadn’t noticed Steve was struggling again.

He bumped his shoulder against Steve’s shoulder, “And this is me, so _talk._ What’s going on?”

“I just…” Steve’s breathing sped up, “I keep thinking about Draken IV. We left them there, Danny. In the dark.”

_Wait--this was about Draken IV?_

Sure, this was a small dark cave, and Draken IV had been a large dark cave--but Danny was pretty sure he was missing something. “So, this is about the settlers?”

“No. Not really.“ Steve leaned over, elbows on his knees, dragged in a breath of air, “I used to have this… dream, and now, I’m having it again.” 

“Tell me.’ Danny said--and then kind of wished he hadn’t. 

Steve described the nightmare in harrowing detail, from the surprise attack by the Klingons to the final, grim moments of the crew. The crew dying in the dark, while Steve was forced to listen.

And Danny had thought his nightmares were bad. He tugged off his glove, and dropped his hand on Steve’s neck. “Here’s what we’re going to do, babe. Chin wants to overhaul the refrigeration unit in Cargo Bay Three, and I need to get my bond with Grace confirmed by a second party. We can do both on Space Station 19--they’ve got a Betazoid counselor. Chin gets a week to fix the unit--the rest of us get a few extra days of downtime.”

Steve turned his head, “Your mom’s the commander of Space Station 19.” 

“Yep.“ Danny nodded, “And my mom’s cooking? Can fix any problem. Trust me on this.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth twitched up, “As long as I don’t have to drink kan--”

A pile of snow fell from the wall, revealing a hole--and then Kono’s head. She looked at them, relief in her eyes. “You two all right?”

Danny got up, grimacing at the flare of pain from his knee. He quickly threw out a distraction--no need for the rest of the crew to know that dark caves freaked Steve out. “We’re fine. We’re just sitting here, discussing refrigeration.” 

He helped Kono out of the hole, swung her to her feet. She looked from him to Steve, “Refrigeration?”

“Cargo Bay Three.” Steve shrugged, his expression carefully blank, “A captain’s work is never done.”

Kono’s gaze swung back to Danny, who also shrugged. She gave up, reached into the hole, and started tugging on a strap, which was attached to a bag.

Danny grabbed it, helping her pull. “What’s this?”

“A portable shield.”

“A portable shield?” It was Danny’s turn to look at Steve, back to her. “You know, if we just enlarge that hole a little more, we can all crawl out of here.”

“I know.” Konno nodded, “But Jenna really, really wants those samples."

~~+~~  
**28\. USS Enterprise (Alt 13 Redux: Accidents)**

“I still don’t understand why I can’t just use the regenerator.” Danny grumbled as Nurse Mlln propped his leg up on pillows.

“Because you have spent too much time in regenerators this month cycle, and they are hard on the body.” She put a gel pack on his knee, activated it. “Besides, it’s just a bad bruise, so we can do this old school--rest, elevation, ice.”

She checked the diagnostic screen, squeezed his shoulder, “The painkiller should--”

“Dah’noh.” Grace walked into the room, clutching a PADD, looking absolutely adorable in the pink and white dress he’d bought for her at the space station.

“Hey, monkey.” Danny’s heart skipped a beat at the nickname, which meant ‘anchor’ in Vulcan. “Remember our talk about knocking?”

“But you are injured.” She tilted her head, one eyebrow canting up. Her emotions swirled up through their link, fear and apprehension that he was truly hurt.

“Just banged my knee.” He held up his hand. “Come on, give me a high five.”

Grace pressed her palm to his for a moment, drawing reassurance from him. Her emotions swirled again, then calmed.

“Just a bruise.” Nurse Mlln added her own assurance, then dimmed the lights. “Call me if you need anything.”

Grace watched her leave, then poked at the gel pack. She jerked her hand back. “It is cold.”

“Yep, it’s a gel pack.” Danny scooted over and Grace scrambled up.

She perched on the side of the bed, legs swinging, and thumbed on the PADD. “I will read to you.”

He glanced over, saw the cover of the book, which he’d been reading to her at bedtime. “That’s a good idea. You remember what chapter we’re on?”

Grace twisted, raising both eyebrows--then her expression changed when she saw his grin. “You are--”

The door opened, and Nurse Mlln walked in, followed by Steve.

“They did not knock.” Grace pointed out.

“No.” Nurse Mlln chirped, as she gestured to the other bed. “But the Captain has a concussion and needs to rest.”

Steve lay down, looking unhappy at being stuck in Sickbay. 

Nurse Mlln patted his shoulder, “Rest.” She turned, “You two still all right?”

“We’re fine.” Danny answered. “We’re reading.”

“ _I_ am reading.” Grace corrected, and Nurse Mlln chirped again, and left. As soon as the door closed, Grace began reading from _Winnie The Pooh_. “The Piglet lived in a very grand house in the middle of a beech-tree, and the beech-tree was in the middle of the forest, and the Piglet lived in the middle of the house.”

Steve opened his mouth--and then shut it when Danny put a finger on his lips.

~~+~~


	7. The Tribble With Tiggers

~~+~~  
**29\. Space Station 19 (Alt 7 Redux: Found Family)**

Steve rapped on the door, “Breakfast is here.”

“I’ll be out in a moment.” Danny pulled his uniform shirt on, over the black undershirt. Although it had only been a week, he was already settling into a rather comfortable routine, thanks to the new living arrangements.

The crew quarters on Constitution-class ships were modular, so it had been laughably easy. Chin had moved into Danny’s old quarters. They had then reconfigured Chin and Steve’s quarters, which were side-by-side, into three smaller suites. 

He and Steve had separate sleeping quarters, but now shared both a bathroom and an office. Grace had her own sleeping space and bathroom, with a nook that could serve as both play and study space. Eventually, once the adoption went through, they would add a connecting door between Danny and Grace’s quarters.

 _If_ the adoption went through--and fuck, Danny was trying not to think about what would happen if it _didn’t_ go through.

He walked out of the bathroom on his side, stepped into their office. Steve was already at the small table, eating while reading his PADD.

Danny cleared his throat, and Steve thumbed off the PADD, leaned over and placed it on the nearest desk. “Happy?”

“I am now.” He palmed the comm link, “Hey, monkey. Time to get up.” Smiled at her sleepy reply, ‘Ha, Dah’noh’. He punched up a cup of raktajino, then opened the warming compartment of the tray, took out his own bowl of kayra. 

There was a running joke that kayra was the breakfast of Starfleet--which wasn’t far from the truth. Kayra pods stored for practically forever, could be eaten as a cereal or a snack, and provided forty-five to seventy percent of the dietary needs for a dozen and half species.

Steve waited until he sat down, “How’s the work going on the refrigeration unit?”

Danny resisted shaking his head. Steve was delegating more stuff to him, but that also meant he kept asking the same questions over and over again. “Chin says they should be done by tomorrow. We still don’t know why it failed, but Starfleet says it could’ve been an “installation error”, which I’m interpreting as ‘somebody majorly fucked up the initial calibration of the unit’. Oh, and Thomlison is putting in for a transfer. There’s a security advisor position on the space station where his daughter lives,”

“Yeah? I’m--” Steve stopped. “Sorry. What do you think of the transfer?”

“See? You _can_ delegate.” Danny waved his spoon at Steve, “What I think is I’m going to write up one hell of a recommendation letter for you to sign, and we can all hope he gets it. Junior would make a great second for security, and Chellea has earned her officer stripe. Junior can continue to do weapons and security checks training, Chellea can teach melee and hand-to-hand.”

“Junior gets along better with Betancourt, anyway.”

“That’s the understatement of the year.” Danny stopped eating to take another swallow of raktajino. “While we’re at it, we could make Xio and Kyra full Quartermasters. There’s really not that much difference between Quartermaster and Junior Quartermaster, except who can sign off on what.”

“Do whatever Chin thinks is best. Xio’s certainly earned a promotion.” Steve finished his cereal, picked up his coffee. “You ready for today?”

Dan set his own cup down, as something very much like fear spiraled through his belly. “I keep reminding myself this is just a formality, and that the counselor is just verifying the telepathic link, so his opinion shouldn’t carry much weight, but...” He shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”

“Danny?” Steve held his gaze, “You’re a good father, and Grace is lucky to have you.”

The doors to his quarter opened, before Danny could reply. “Good morning, Captain. Good morning, Dah’noh.”

Danny turned--and grinned. Chellea had taken Grace shopping yesterday and Grace was dressed normally--for a Cappellan kid. She was wearing a long-sleeved dress in a very loud pattern of green and blue flowers; with matching leggings, and green sandals.

“I love the outfit. I should let you run off with my credit card more often.”

Grace’s eyebrow raised ever so slightly, and she looked over at Steve as she took her bowl of cereal from the warming compartment. “More Terran slang?”

“Very _old_ Terran slang.” Steve agreed, his eyes laughing at Danny over the edge of his cup.

“Fine, gang up on me, why don’t you?” Danny got to his feet, went over and unlocked the drawer of his desk. He pulled out the container he'd hidden there. “While you and Chellea were shopping, I tracked down this.”

He took the lid off with a small flourish, and set the container of hirat, a Vulcan fruit similar to grapes, on the table. Although Grace’s expression didn’t change as she popped a hirat in her mouth, he could fell her surprise and pleasure crash like a warm, happy wave through him.

“Make sure to thank him.” Steve took another sip of his coffee, “Dah’noh here gets grumpy when you don’t thank him.”

Grace tilted her head slightly as she took another hirat. “Thank you, Dah’noh.”

“You’re welcome.” Danny sat back down, picked up his spoon, “See, Steve? That’s how to say ‘thank you’. My six-year old does it better than you.”

Grace’s gaze swung back to Steve, who was smirking over his coffee cup. “You’re right, Grace. He’s still grumpy.”

~~+~~  
**29\. Space Station 19 (Prompt 6: Please…)**

Danny tried to re-read the report more slowly, but it didn’t help. He kept losing his place. He finally put down the PADD, and half-closed his eyes. He could feel Grace in the counselor’s office, and she seemed--confused?

He glanced at the time, realized nearly an hour had cycled by. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign--or a really bad sign. Danny gave up on trying to distract himself with the report, thumbed his PADD off. 

One of the main reasons his marriage failed was because he and Rachel wanted very different things. She wanted a career on a Constitution-class starship, while he would’ve been happy to settle down on some space station, raise a family. 

Their divorce had shelved any hope of him ever being a father--and then, suddenly, there was Grace. Except, her future--their future--depended on whatever the bureaucrats of Starfleet decided. Danny could beg and plead all he wanted, but the one thing he wanted most was completely out of his hands--

“First Officer Williams?” Andrus, the Betazoid counselor, smiled down at him. “If I could talk to you?”

“Sure.” He got up, followed Andrus back to his office.

“Please, sit.” Andrus took the other chair, and turned his head slightly, as if listening. He turned back to Danny. “Just checking. I left Grace by herself in the playroom to process our session. She didn’t quite know what to make of meeting a Betazoid.”

Danny nodded, “She did seem a bit confused.”

“Yes, I’m afraid we can be a bit...well, loud, to Vulcans. I also--” There was an odd soft warbling sound, and Andrus stopped for a moment, then continued, “I wanted to tell you that, frankly, I’m impressed. Grace seems to be doing very well, considering the circumstances of--” 

There was another, louder, warble.

“The circumstances of losing her family.” Andrus put a slight emphasis on ‘circumstances’ and it was clear he was wondering why Grace’s stasis pod had shown up on an old mining wreck. Which was the rather stupid and flimsy cover story that Command had handed down.

“I have sent your ship’s CMO some additional resources, but honestly, I would encourage you to continue doing what you are doing. I do have one other thing that we’re finding helpful to those who are grieving.” Andrus got up, and went over to a small cylinder container. 

He opened it, and pulled out a fluffy reddish-orange and white ball of fur. It warbled, then settled into a softer trilling sound when Andrus stroked it.

“Is that a...tribble?” Danny had heard about tribbles, but he’d always assumed the stories were just that--stories.

“It is--and don’t worry, there will be no repeat of what happened on Deep Space Station K-7. The tribbles we’re using are sterile clones.” Andrus placed the tribble on his desk. “They’re the ideal therapy animal. Hypoallergenic, easy to care for, and long-lived.”

“Yeah?” Danny hesitantly picked up the creature, and was surprised at just how soft and, well, _cuddly_ it was. It immediately nestled into his hands, and began to purr. “All right, I guess we could--”

His communicator chirped. 

_What the--?_ He wasn’t supposed to be on call today.

Danny juggled the tribble to his other hand, pulled out the communicator. “I’m sorry, I need to take this.”

“Of course.” Andrus stood up, placed the cylinder container on the desk, along with a container of what Danny assumed was food. “I’ll just go get Grace.”

Danny stepped out of the office, flipped his communicator open one-handed. “Williams.”

“Hey, Danny?” Lou’s tone was tight with worry, ”Have you seen Steve? He was supposed to meet me for lunch, and he never showed. The station logs show he beamed down an hour and a half ago.”

“No. I haven’t seen him since breakfast.” Danny tried to push back his own worry, but this _was_ Steve. “Can you meet me at the observation deck on Concourse D?”

He waited for Lou to say yes, then hung up. Danny slipped his communicator back in his pocket, already thinking. He would send Grace back to the ship with Lou, then contact Kyle, who was Chief Security Officer for the space station. And also his mom’s current boyfriend.

Because, yeah, that was never awkward.

It dawned on Danny he was still holding the tribble, which was still happily purring. “I swear, if he has gone and gotten himself kidnapped again, I’m going to kill him.”

The tribble purred even louder.

~~+~~  
**30\. Space Station 19 (Prompt 2 Redux: Kidnapping)**

Steve signed the form, sent it. He pulled up the next form, and then realized what he was doing. It was his day off--and he was still working. He hated to admit it, but Danny was right.

He was turning into a workaholic. 

Steve stared at the PADD for a second, then resolutely thumbed it off, placed it in the desk’s charging drawer. He glanced at the time; saw he had nearly two hours to kill before lunch.

He _could_ check out one of the station’s shuttle bays...

Fifteen minutes later, Steve strode into the biggest of the station’s four shuttle bays. When Steve and his family had first arrived at the Douglas Station, he’d been fascinated by the space docks and the half-built starships. He’d quickly found something much more interesting--the station’s enormous shuttle bays.

Douglas Station was where many of Starfleet’s shuttles were built and repaired. And the engineers and techs had always been happy to show a bored kid some odd bit of shuttle technology, or tell him a story about Starfleet and her older ships.

Steve found himself relaxing as he entered the bay. There was a reassuring similarity to shuttle bays. They might vary in size, but otherwise they were generally all laid out the same. Landing strip, port and starboard cargo docks, the loader quad, and the maintenance bays.

The maintenance bays were full today--the ever popular class-M shuttles, a few Harris and Vetan shuttles--and an old THX. Steve took his time, slowly strolling down to the THX, careful to stay within the safety zone taped on the floor. He hadn’t bothered to change into civilian clothes, and he kept getting puzzled looks.

He eventually reached the maintenance bay where the old shuttle sat, and one of the techs stopped, unsure what to do. He finally just nodded, “Captain.”

Steve smiled, “THX-1138?”

“Yes, sir.” The tech’s expression changed. The only real difference between the THX-1138 and the THX-1140 was the rear thrusters. “Guess you are familiar with these old thaxers?”

“I know I love the old Hansin powerplants.” 

“Got that right. Mavs might be all eco and shit, but a Mav plant can’t pump revs like a Hansin.” The tech stuck out his hand. “I'm Tyrone, by the way.”

Steve shook his hand, “My name’s Steve.”

“Good to meet you.” Tyrone grinned, “You know, if you really want to see a piece of history, there’s a hundred thaxer on the aft dock of Deck 29. Just past the D pylon.”

“A hundred?” Steve wasn’t sure to be impressed, or concerned. “And it still flies?”

”Yep, looks like a THX-809, but somebody changed out the stabilizing struts, so it might be a THX-815.”

“Or maybe a THX-816.” The other tech, a short blue Andorian, poked his head out. “They overhauled her lungs, too. The intake and the scoops look Klingon.”

Steve grinned. Saying a repair ‘looked Klingon’ was one of the worst insults out there--at least among shuttle techs. “All right, I’ve got to see this thaxer.”

Ten minutes later, he found his way to Pylon D on Deck 29. There were half a dozen shuttles, mostly M-class, parked on the aft dock. The old THX shuttle sat at the end. It truly was a dinosaur, its exterior mottled from different patch jobs and repairs.

Steve tried to guess how old the shuttle was--probably built towards the end of last century? That’s when he saw a familiar face. The son of Diplomat Beyan of Danter was staring at him through the window of one of the M-class shuttles. A moment later, he was gone--as if he’d been yanked away. 

Steve froze. He quickly checked the designation numbers of the other M-class shuttles. A chill ran down his spine when he saw one shuttle's number was only a couple of digits off from the number of the shuttle where he’d seen the Danteri kid.

It was an old smuggler’s trick--exchanging goods by exchanging shuttles. Both ships landed an identical shuttle, with similar numbers, at a dock. Each crew would hack their shuttle’s nav unit, change the designation number, then slap the new numbers on the outside. If the dock used an automated shuttle traffic program, there was very little chance of anyone ever noticing the two ships had swapped shuttles.

Steve looked around, and saw a Lurian in a Security uniform making his rounds. 

Even better, he was a cadet.

Steve strode up to him, gave his best Captain’s bark. “You! What’s your name?!”

The Lurian snapped to attention. “Cadet Jok, sir!”

“We’ve got an overheated Hansin powerplant in that shuttle.” Steve stabbed a finger at the ancient THX. “Sound the alarm, and get the damn crews of these shuttles out of here.”

The Lurian’s eyes bulged. “We do?”

“Now, Cadet Jok!” Steve barked again, then turned away before the Cadet could have a chance to think about why he was being ordered around by a ship’s Captain.

The high-pitched klaxon alarm sounded and the aft deck turned into chaos. Steve used it as cover to slide under the shuttle, crawl to the belly hatch. He slid his hand down, pulled his knife out of his boot. It took only a moment to pry the cover off the power access. He reached up, twisted the manual override handle. 

The hatch opened. 

Steve shoved the knife back in his boot, and grabbed the lip of the hatch. hauling himself into the shuttle. There were two male Rigelians and one female Tellarite inside, plus the Danteri kid. The kid gave him a wide-eyed look--and then all three charged him.

Steve grabbed the closest Rigelian, sending him headfirst through the open hatch. Grunted as the Tellarite kicked him hard in the ribs. The other male tried to punch him, but Steve ducked, and kicked out. 

He swept the Rigelian off his feet, then followed with an uppercut to the guy’s jaw. The Rigelian yelped and swung again, his fist smashing into the side of Steve’s head. He managed one more punch before Steve brought his knee up hard, between the Rigelian's legs. 

The kidnapper moaned. That’s when the Tellarite kicked Steve in the ribs again, just as he slammed his fist into the Rigelian's face, knocking him out cold. He staggered up, turning--

“Freeze! Or I’ll shoot!” Cadet Jok was standing in the door of the shuttle, his phaser pointed at the Tellarite.

The Tellarite put her hands up.

Steve glanced down at the kid--Dak? Dax? No, it was Dix. “Dix? Are you all right?”

Dix scrambled to his feet, sobbing as he threw his arms around Steve. Steve winced as fresh pain flared from his bruised ribs.

“Took me a minute to remember a Hansin can’t overheat.” Cadet Jok grinned at him, as he put restraining bars on the Tellarite. “I already restrained the other Rigelian. Who’s the kid?”

The kid raised his chin, clearly a lot braver now he was safe. “I’m Dix, my father is Beyan, _Diplomat_ Beyan.”

“Yeah?” The cadet’s grin widened. “That’s great! I’m going to get a hell of a promotion for this!”

~~+~~  
**31\. Space Station 19 (Prompt 5: Rescue)**

Danny burst into the security office. Kyle was standing at the front desk, chatting with a Denobulan. He turned, “Oh, hey, Danny. You here to collect Captain McGarrett?”

“He’s here?” Danny slid to a stop, his shoulders slumping with relief.

“Yeah. I was about to call your ship. Your Captain stopped a kidnapping--with a little help from my security.” Kyle was a stocky Alpha Centaurian, who was always laid back, no matter the crisis. “You know your mom. She wants credit for the assist. Is that all right?”

Danny blinked. “How about we go back to ‘stopped a kidnapping’.”

“You know the Denari pleasure cruiser that insisted on taking up two loading pylons?”

Danny hadn’t even noticed the pleasure cruiser, but he nodded, because he knew from experience it was usually easier to just let Kyle talk.

“There’s a diplomat aboard. He’s famous for some treaty that the Denari signed with the Koa? Anyway, he must’ve hired some really lousy security--” Kyle turned to the Denobulan, “Nearly as bad as the Valtese ship. Remember that?”

“How could I forget?” The Denobulan said, gravely. “It took us months to patch all the holes.”

Danny bit his tongue, and tried to be patient.

“So, get this. The Denari’s security team? They let a couple of the crew take off with his son.” Kyle turned to the Denobulan again, “Would you believe they tried to use the old “swap the shuttles” trick?”

“I can believe it.” The Denobulan’s tone hadn’t changed. “Remember that Rigellian freighter? They tried that and nearly toasted our--”

“And Steve stopped the kidnappers?” Danny gave up, and interrupted anyway.

“Wait--Steve McGarrett?” The Denobulan sounded even more grave, “Wasn’t his dad the JAG who blew up half of our port side dock?”

“Half the dock? Really?” Kyle leaned against the counter, “You never told me about--”

“Kyle?” Danny managed, barely, to keep his tone even. “Where’s Steve?”

He jerked his head towards the back offices. “He’s in Customs.”

“Thanks.” Danny started to walk around the front desk.

“Hey, Danny?”

Danny slowed, and gritted out, “Yes?”

“Feel free to use the teleportation pad--just make sure Cadet Jok’s done filling out the report, will you?”

“Sure.” Danny walked down the back hall, and into the warren of offices that constituted Customs for the station. He stopped just inside the door, and sighed. Heavily.

Steve looked like hell--and he had an audience. 

It seemed like anybody working Security or Customs was crowded into the small space, listening as Steve answered questions from a Lurian, who was slowly typing his responses into a terminal.

The Lurian pecked out a couple of more words, then nodded. “Done.”

“Hey, Danny.” Steve got to his feet unsteadily, looking pleased with himself. He had a black eye and a swollen lip, and the entire right side of his face was mottled black and blue. From the way he was holding his side, he’d injured his ribs, too. “Good timing, we just finished.”

“Show’s over, folks.” Danny put a hand on Steve’s left arm, steering him out the door, and down to the small teleportation pad, tucked behind the licensing office. “How? That’s all I want to know. An hour and half. You were down here for an hour and a half, Steve, and yet, somehow, _somehow_ , you managed to--”

He let go of Steve as they stepped onto the transporter pad, and flipped open his communicator. “Chin? Steve and I are on security’s teleportation pad. I’m over-riding the lock-out now--can you beam us over? ”

Steve looked at him with his one good eye. “Lock-out?”

“Yes, these are the offices for security and oddly, the station frowns on people randomly beaming in and out of them.” Danny reached over, punched the code into the pad’s main terminal. “And don’t change the subject. Somehow--in an hour and a half--you managed to go from ‘Hey! Let’s have a quiet, peaceful lunch with my Chief Engineer’ to ‘Scratch that. Let’s find and beat up some kidnappers’. And I really, really need to know _how_ you managed to get from A to B.”

“Why are you yelling at me, Danny? I couldn’t let them take the kid.” 

“Because--” Danny felt the icy tingle of the teleportation beam, and then he was on the Enterprise’s pad. He waved his hand at Chin, Kono, and Lou who were looking both relieved and mildly pissed off. “Because, Steven, you didn’t contact Lou, you didn’t contact Chin, you didn’t contact Kono, _and_ you didn’t contact me. You are the captain, and yet, none of us knew where you were at, because you were on some shuttle dock, doing non-captainy things.”

Chin crossed his arms, “I’m siding with Danny on this one.”

Kono also crossed her arms, “We could just put a tracker on him.”

Lou narrowed his eyes, “Don’t give me any ideas.”

Steve looked at the three of them, and then back at Danny.

“See?” Danny put a hand on Steve’s arm again, “And now? You get to visit sickbay. Again.”

~~Epilogue~~

Steve couldn’t eat another bite and apparently, Grace couldn’t either. She pushed the pie plate away and Danny handed her back Tigger, who gave a happy, if weird, little chirp.

Clara Williams put a hand on Kyle’s arm, just as he started to launch into another long-winded story. “Excuse me, dear. Anyone want another piece?”

“No, I’m good.” Danny and Steve said it at the same time, and Danny added, “and I think Grace here has had enough.”

Grace who had polished off her own piece of pie and ‘helped’ Danny with his piece, nodded.

Clara got to her feet, “Then I’ll just put the food away.”

Danny and Kyle rose to help clear the table, and Steve pushed himself to his feet more slowly. Max had given him a painkiller, so he didn’t really hurt, but his body was definitely stiff. It was just his luck that Max was being stingy with the regenerator again, insisting that there was no reason to put the extra strain on Steve’s body for something as minor as bruised ribs.

“And you are going to sit down.” Danny pointed to the chairs in the other room. He shook his head when Steve opened his mouth. “No, Kermit said you could come only if you took it easy.”

“Fine.” Steve gave in, grudgingly. He sat down in the nearest chair, swung his feet up on the footstool. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic.” Danny answered, over a stack of plates.

Steve stretched out a little more--and realized he was actually...content. Danny was right--his mom was an excellent cook. She also got along surprisingly well with Grace. Danny had been right about that too--his mom was very big on embracing diversity, including a surprise Vulcan grand daughter.

Although, if Steve was being honest with himself, it was more than tonight’s meal. 

When Chin had come up with a way to carve out rooms for Grace, Steve had just been happy that only he, Danny, and Chin would be affected by the new plan. The two things that really made the crew bitch and moan were shift changes, and any reshuffling of crew quarters. 

Steve hadn’t expected their new arrangement to be so… domestic. It was strange how something as simple as having meals with Danny and Grace--

“Captain?” Grace walked into the room.

He pulled his mind back, “Yes?” 

“Could you hold Tigger, so I may assist with the dishes?”

“Sure.” He started to reach for her pet, but Grace had already placed the tribble on his stomach. She gave Tigger a pat, and walked out of the room.

The tribble immediately began to trill. At least, that was Steve’s best guess at the strange noise it was making. His dad had never let them have pets--

The tribble trilled louder and Steve automatically put a hand on it. It was surprisingly fluffy--and warm. He patted it and the tribble began purring, a gentle, soft vibration. Petting seemed to make it happy, so he continued to stroke its fur, half-listening to the purr--

“Steve? Time to go home.”

He woke to Danny grinning down at him--and the tribble still purring. Shit. He’d actually fallen asleep.

“All right.” He handed the tribble to Grace. She took it, and Danny’s mom gave Grace a speculative look. 

Steve hauled himself to his feet. Looked down at Grace. 

Her eyebrow quirked up just a bit.

Steve stood there for a long moment, as it sank in that Grace had set him up. And what was even worse, he felt better for the nap.

Danny, meanwhile, hugged his mom goodbye. Clara turned from the hug, gave Steve’s arm a motherly pat. "Take care of my son--and that crew of yours.”

Steve nodded. “I will.”

“Grace?” Clara held up her hand, fingers spread apart in the Vulcan salute. “Live long, and prosper.”

Grace shifted Tigger to her left hand, raised her right hand, “Live long and prosper--and thank you for the pie.”

Danny pulled out his communicator, “Chin? Three--and a Tigger--to beam up.”

~~Finis~~

Next Chapter is the Appendix

Sequel (WIP): [To Explore Creepy New Planets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27261133/chapters/66599572)


	8. Appendix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I have given up, and written an Appendix. I also did a quick check, to ensure everybody’s ranks and positions correctly match up with the list below. If you see a problem, let me know!

**Enterprise Line Command:**

Captain Steve J. McGarrett - Ship's Captain  
Commander Danny ‘Dan’noh’ Williams - XO/First Officer, First Tactical Officer  
Commander Duke Lukela - Second Officer, Chief Helm Officer & Chief Communication Officer (runs third watch)  
Lt Commander Nikki Betancourt* - Third Officer, Chief Security Officer & Second Tactical Officer (runs second watch)  
Lt Commander Chin Ho Kelly - Chief Operations Officer & Third Tactical Officer (OOD - first watch)

**Line Personnel:**

_**Bridge/Tactical:**_  
Captain Steve J. McGarrett - Ship's Captain  
Commander Danny ‘Dan’noh’ Williams - First Tactical Officer  
Commander Duke Lukela - Chief Helm Officer & Chief Communication Officer  
Lt Commander Nikki Betancourt* - Second Tactical Officer  
Lt Commander Chin Ho Kelly - Third Tactical Officer  
Lieutenant Jerry Ortega - Navigation Officer & Weapons Officer  
Lieutenant Kono Kalakaua - Communications Officer & Helm Officer  
_**Operations:**_  
Lt Commander Chin Ho Kelly - Chief Operations Officer  
Lieutenant Commander Matt Li* - Operations Officer  
Lieutenant Jun Grade Xio - Quartermaster.  
Lieutenant Jun Grade Kyra, Andorian - Quartermaster  
_**Science:**_  
Lieutenant Jenna Kaye - First Science Officer & Navigation Officer  
Lieutenant Jeff Morrison - Second Science Officer & Helm Officer  
Lieutenant Archie Johnson** - Third Science Officer, Navigation Officer  
Ensign Henry Adams** - Science  
Cadet Huol - Science  
Cadet Bi’an - Science  
_**Security:**_  
Lt Commander Nikki Betancourt* - Chief Security Officer (Second Watch)  
Lt Commander Junior Reigns, Alpha Centaurian - First Security Officer (First Watch)  
Lt Commander Gary Walker* - Second Security Officer (Third Watch)  
Lieutenant Chellea, Capellan - Security  
Lieutenant Tani Rey - Security  
Lieutenant Pol, Lurian - Security  
Lieutenant Jun Grade Gav, Lurian - Security  
Ensign Kessil, Denobulan - Security

**Enterprise Staff Officers (non-chain of command):**

_**Engineering:**_  
Commander Lou Grover - Chief Engineer  
Lt Commander 11110/11111, Bynar - Assistant Chief Engineers  
Ensign El, Saurian - Engineer  
Ensign Jun Grade Jones - Engineer  
Cadet Anya, Andorian - Engineer  
_**Medical:**_  
Lt. Commander Max Bergman - Chief Medical Officer  
Enlisted Nurse Mlln, Geron - Head Nurse

 **Shifts:** In Star Trek canon, there are four shifts on the Enterprise: alpha, beta, gamma, delta. In this verse, there are three shifts: first watch, second watch, third watch. Each watch is 10 hours, with shifts typically 4 days on, 3 days.

 **Line of Command:** Yes, it’s canon that the entire chain of command tends to work the same shift. In this verse, however, Duke, Second Officer, runs third watch (which is why Steve gave Duke command of the bridge instead of Chin in one scene) and Betancourt, who is cross-trained in Tactical, runs second watch.

Chin is Officer On Deck for first watch, i.e. in charge if Captain or XO is busy. (Having Operations and Security run the bridge/be line officers makes at least as much sense as having Chief Engineer Scotty take the bridge in TOS) Also, in this verse, all commanding officers are required to be cross-trained in at least one other discipline.

 **Personnel/Operations:** Typically, the military has one group of officers to run ship personnel and another group of officers to run ship cargo. In Star Trek canon, this is all a bit of a mess. I put ship personnel under the XO, Second and Third Officers, got rid of the yeoman positions, and put all ship cargo/commissary under Ship Operations: Chief Operations officer, Operations officer, Quartermasters (two) and Junior Quartermasters (two). In this verse, Operation personnel are the only ones trained to run the teleporter.

 **Bridge:** In TOS, Helm, Navigation, and Weapons are different roles, but there is a lot of cross training (I think? this structure changed in TNG)

 **Non-enlisted:** In Star Trek, there are also non-enlisted positions, but it's frankly a bit of a mess canon-wise. I just created ‘Second Trackers’, which means non-enlisted personnel. Cadets can be either enlisted or non-enlisted.

**Ranks:**

Fleet Admiral  
Admiral  
Vice Admiral  
Commodore  
Captain  
Commander  
Lieutenant Commander  
Lieutenant  
Lieutenant - Junior Grade  
Ensign  
Ensign - Junior Grade  
Cadet

*Unabashedly stolen from Numb3rs  
**Unabashedly stolen from CSI


End file.
